The Potential Wife
by Moonlaw
Summary: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautif
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife** and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings:**This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary**: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

**AN:** Just doing some editing. Nothing has been changed.

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Prologue**

* * *

Caught between a rock and a hard place the unfortunate orderly began to sweat. He'd met some real hard cases in his time, but this black haired bloke, who even in crutches towered over him, could have given the hardest of those tough characters a run for their money! It was something about those eyes, he concluded with a shudder, as he become unable to maintain eye contact with those midnight blue orbs any longer.

Truth to tell, he'd always felt slightly scornful of his colleagues, who tended to be intimidated by some of the rich and famous patients who stated at the exclusive clinic. It was a matter of pride with him…no obsequious groveling to the spoilt and pampered. He was polite, but he didn't treat them any different than he would the ordinary man in the street. In his own defense there was no way that this bloke was going to be mistaken for a man on the street, and that circumstance had nothing to do whatsoever with money.

"Sister said…" he began to protest weakly.

"Take the wheelchair away."

No shouting, no red faced blustering, but he still managed to put an indefinable _something_ into his voice that made your blood run cold.

"Sister Lita said you've got to leave in a wheelchair.'

Darien Shields permitted himself a thin lipped smile and remained blissfully unaware that the streetwise young man in front of him found it deeply sinister.

"Sister Lita knows my opinion of wheelchairs."

The redoubtable Sister Lita knew Darien's opinion on a lot of subjects; they'd had many a clash of wills over the past few weeks.

"Listen, mate." The harassed orderly made a last ditch ma-to-man appeal. "Maybe you don't need the wheelchair, maybe you do; I don't know. I do know you won't be here tomorrow, but I will and so will Sister Lita. She can make life a misery."

"Thanks, Jadeite. I'll see Mr. Shields off the premises."

The orderly turned with an expression of relief to see Andrew Fuhurata standing in the doorway.

"Cheers, Doc!" He gave him a grateful look and didn't hang around to find out if his appeal had found a sympathetic ear.

"Well, Darien, harassing my staff until the bitter end, I see…"

Darien Shields snorted. "That's pretty rich. Coming from you! If it's not beneath your dignity," he nudged a slim leather briefcase with his toe. "Carry that for me." As much as he hated to ask for help, sometimes there was no alternative.

The curt unfriendly tone had no visible effect on the surgeon, who had a pretty shrewd idea of the frustration his patient was feeling.

"I doubt that it's on my job description but what the hell…for my favorite patient, why not?"

"Is sarcasm in the job description?" Darien gritted, swinging his crutches into action. Even though this posture robbed him of several inches, he was still a good head taller than the other man.

"You are in a hurry," the doctor observed, increasing his pace to keep up with the cracking pace that Darien had set. "Anyone would think you didn't like us…"

"If I ever develop a yen for a police state you'll be the first person I'll think of, Doc," Darien promised grimly.

"I suppose I'd be wasting my breath telling you not to discharge yourself…?" Darien delivered a look that could have withered graves on the vine. The doctor gave a philosophical shrug. "You can't blame for trying. You are, after all, one of my most amazing success stories. I'd hate to see you blow all that hard work for want of a bit of patience."

Darien's smile was wintry. He'd made heavy inroads during the past few months into his limited patience reserves. "Don't worry, I won't do anything to ruin your reputation as a miracle worker."

Andrew Fuhurata inclined his head in acceptance of the back handed compliment. His expression was wry; he knew he was good, possibly the best, but he was a realist, and as much as he would have liked to claim all the credit for himself he knew that the speed and completeness of Darien's recovery owed more to the man's remarkable determination and steely willpower than anything else.

"Back door to avoid the press…?" He knew the routine; the clinic had its fair share of celebrity patients.

"I don't see why I should make their lives easier, do you? Zoi's brought the car around."

His doctor could see the reasoning behind this logic; he was pretty sure he might be a bit paranoid too if his personal life had been served up for public consumption as often as Darien Shields's had.

"If you are so bothered about security I'm surprised you are not staying with your parents. Don't they even have their own drawbridge…?"

"Not to mention a moat, a castle, and the best part of a village," Darien drawled languidly." But no son…At least, as far as my dad is concerned."

The doctor looked at his patient well proportioned, rather stern profile and wondered if he cared. You could never tell with Darien.

"But…" He stopped himself just in time before blurting out the information that Shields senior, who had even more financial clout than his son, had forbidden any member of staff to mention. "I'd have thought the accident…" he protested mildly.

"It would take more than a near death experience to make my father change his mind, Andrew. As far as he's concerned I stopped being his son the day I didn't do as he wanted. I'm the competition now…and he'd like nothing better than ruin me."

Andrew Fuhurata was shocked by this cold blooded analysis even though he knew it wasn't strictly true.

"Well, that is not likely to happen, is it?" he responded uncomfortably.

Despite the fact that after a somewhat mysterious departure of his more experience partner the city had predicted disaster, it was well know that the airline that Darien had started from very humble beginnings was now causing the big players who had scoffed; none louder than Darien's own father, Connor Shields, serious headaches.

"Worried about your share dividend, doc?"

Andrew grinned. He could afford to. Earth Flights was one of the financial success stories of the decade. "Actually, I do have a small sum invested."

"Then I'll probably make a very rich man," Darien announced with total lack of modesty.

"The rates we charge here and the amount of hardware in that leg, Darien, you already have…"

* * *

"I've never actually done any private sector work, and to be honest it's never really appealed."

Despite her indifferent tone Serena was well aware that she couldn't afford to be picky when it came to jobs. In fact it was all she could do not to kiss the woman's handmade Italian shoes!

Serena's anxiety began to mount as she watched Drusilla Shields' midnight blue eyes drift around the forlorn looking, half empty sitting room. Supposing I sounded _too_ uninterested? It was one thing not wanting to come over as a charity case; it was another playing hard to get!

"But you need work…?"

Serena felt a wave of relief. For a nasty moment there she'd thought she'd talked herself out of a job.

"Don't we all?"

Well, not all, Serena silently conceded, realizing that she was almost certainly speaking to someone who didn't need to work. The chauffeur driven limo Drusilla had driven up in had been ample proof of that.

Serena's own situation wasn't _desperate_, but it could get that way…and fast. Her godfather was executor of her mother's estate and, even though he had tried to break the news as gently as he could, Serena had been shocked to learn of the full extent of her mother's debts. Serena had genuinely thought the gambling thing was in the past.

Apparently she wasn't legally bound to pay back the undocumented amounts of cash, some of them large, that her mother had borrowed from her friends and family over a twelve month period, but Serena was determined to pay back every penny.

It was a weight off her mind that the house had sold so swiftly; unfortunately this piece of good luck had left her without a roof over her head.

With very little in her bank account, the extended leave she'd taken to care for her mother during her final stages of her illness had been unpaid, she needed a job and somewhere to live.

Now here was a friend of Mom's who, up until last month, they hadn't seen for years, offering her both. It had to be fate.

She nudged the edge of a half full packing case with the toe of her trainer. It was filled with the stuff the auctioneers hadn't wanted.

"People always want good physios, and I've heaps of experience. I'll get a new job easily enough," she assured her affluent looking visitor on an earnest, upbeat note.

"But not your old one."

"No," Serena confirmed with a regretful sigh. "I knew they couldn't hold it open indefinitely, but that might be a blessing in disguise."

Drusilla wasn't surprised to hear it. Five minutes after she'd met Serenity Alcobar she had realized that her old friend's daughter was as resiliently optimistic as she was beautiful. A few discreet enquiries into the girl's financial situation, added to what Irene had told her, had revealed she'd need every ounce of that youthful resilience.

"I've worked in the same hospital since I qualified, not exactly bold and adventurous."

Drusilla wondered if Darien would find the girl's smile as enchanting as she did. A frown tugged at the seamless brow as she contemplated her son's choice of female companionship.

"I always meant to travel," Serena explained, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as visions of exotic sun kissed shores rose tantalizingly before her eyes. "I just never got around to it somehow…" The smile faded. "There's nothing to keep me here anymore."

Drusilla caught up the young woman's hand in a comforting grip. "You did everything you could for Irene, my dear, "she insisted warmly. "And you must take comfort from the fact that in the end she was here amongst all the familiar things that were dear to her, and with the daughter I know she loved very much."

The motherly patting on the arm made Serena's wide spaced cerulean blue eyes fill with tears, not that Drusilla Shields, with her designer clothes, glossy hair and impossibly youthful face was like any mother she knew.

"You're very kind. You say this job would only be short term…? It is a live in post…? "That would solve her immediate problem.

Drusilla clapped her prettily kept hands in delight. "You'll do it for me? Excellent!"

"There is a job, isn't there? You are not just inventing one because you feel sorry for me…?" Her doubts emerged gruffly as she wiped a hint of moisture from the corner of her eye. "Mum didn't ask you to watch out for me…?"

Drusilla laughed. "Oh, there's a job all right; you'll definitely earn your money, my dear. Incidentally, you'll be working for me, not Darien."

Serena nodded. That was understandable. If the man had been in the hospital for six months it was likely he didn't have the spare cash to pay for a private physiotherapist, and it was equally obvious her mother did.

"I suppose it will be some time before he'll be able to get back to work…I mean, pilots need to be very fit, don't they?"

"Pilots…?"

"You did say he was piloting a helicopter when he was injured?"

"Yes, that is right."

Drusilla was looking a bit uncomfortable and Serena cured her own insensitivity at referring to the accident.

"You'll probably be better off getting someone else," she felt impelled to point out. "You know I've specialized in working with children for several years."

"That might in very handy when dealing with Darien," Darien's mother reflected dryly. "At heart most men are little boys."

Serena's fuzzy mental image of an over indulged mummy's boy intensified.

The problem is he's never had a day's illness in his life and he's not making the most _tolerant_ patient, poor dear. He needs cheering up, and small wonder! That terrible accident was bad enough, but then that awful girl proceeded to dump him." The blue eyes flashed with maternal ire. "I suppose we ought to be grateful she waited for him to be taken off the critical list before she went ranting on hysterically to those awful newspapers about him never walking again! 'Horribly disfigured,' I ask you…!"

Serena's blue eyes softened with sympathy. "I didn't know… They can do marvelous things with facial reconstruction."

"Heavens, no; there was hardly a mark in his face. Obviously you don't escape such a horrific accident with _no_ scars," Drusilla conceded. "But the main problem was being forced to lie flat on his back with the spinal injury for so long; he's had too much time to brood. I knew the moment I saw you that you were just the girl for the job!"

"Let's hope your son thinks the same."

It seemed strange to Serena that her new patient wasn't having any say in the choice of his physio, but then to all she knew he might be the sort of man who let Mummy buy his socks for him.

There were a lot of men out there who still relied heavily on their mothers well into their thirties; she'd met one or two herself. She sometimes wondered if something about her screamed "substitute mother"; they certainly seemed to gravitate towards her.

"Oh, I'm sure Darien will love you."

Nothing could have been more heartily confident than Drusilla's firm tone…So why was Serena getting the distinct impression things weren't quite as straightforward as the older woman was implying?

"He does know that you are…?"

"You might find Darien a little…erm…resistant…" Drusilla was obviously choosing her words with care. "But you must promise me one thing." Her blue eyes gleamed with urgency as she caught hold of Serena's hand. "Don't listen to him if he tells you he doesn't need you. Promise me, Serenity!"

Serena felt slightly uneasy and a little embarrassed by the older woman's intensity. "You are the boss," she agreed, a shade of unease in her voice.


	2. Chapter 2

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**

Disclaimer: I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife** and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings: **This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary:** Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

The Potential Wife

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Serena had understood that her mother's childhood friend had married money, but she hadn't known just how _much_ money until she arrived at the lady's country _cottage_. A shooting box for some titled lord originally, its rooms were all on a grand scale and the opulent décor which was sympathetic to the period was out of this world. She just knew she'd live in constant fear of breaking some priceless ornament.

After the housekeeper, Serena's idea that her ill-defined duties might need to stretch as far as the kitchen and the odd bit of light housework were fast fading, had shown her to her room, where she'd found a large bouquet of flowers and a warm letter from Drusilla apologizing for her absence, Serena had explored the neatly kept grounds.

She was repelling the over friendly advances of a large bee which had detached itself from the low lavender hedge that ran the entire length of the neatly trimmed lawn when a gleaming black Jag drew up on the graveled forecourt.

The opportunist bee took advantage of Serena's lapse in concentration and stung her on the inner part of her exposed forearm; great timing! She was vaguely aware that a good deal of door slamming and gravel crunching was going on whilst she was hopping around biting her lips stoically.

Serena was just getting on top of the pain when she heard a deep gravelly voice roughly demand, "Well, don't just stand there, Zoi, get rid of her!"

The strong clipped tones didn't fit with the firm image in her mind of a wan, pain ravaged invalid. She opened her eyes and blinked back the tears of pain to find a tall gangly chap of about thirty looking anxiously dawn at her. He looked nice but a picture of health.

"Are you alright?"

"I was stung by a bee." She peered towards the area of her arm which was already puffy and inflamed.

"You poor thing, let me have a look…"

So much for all the elaborate subterfuge to ensure his privacy! Someone at the hospital must have passed on the information to the press. Darien Shields quickly got tired of waiting for Zoi to get rid of the unwanted visitor and eased himself slowly from the low slung vehicle. By the time he was standing on the graveled forecourt, beads of sweat stood out on his brow.

Darien propelled himself with the assistance of the much despised crutches to find out what was taking so long. Once he was in a position to get his first proper view of the girl he stopped wondering.

Honey blond hair pulled back into a cute ponytail to reveal a simpering smile that was in no way genuine pinned in a face that was all scrubbed cheeks, innocent big eyes and sexy lips. Then, last but not least, _definitely_ not least, there was the body. No anorexic waif this one; Lara Croft meets the girl next door! In short, the babe of babes like Zoi's collective dreams.

Zoi had a vacuous grin on his face. It made Darien feel embarrassed just to look at it; he'd seen sheep that looked more intelligent than his best friend did at this moment! A superior smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. The women in his dreams had more going for them than Ms. Insipid Prettiness over there!

"Darien," Zoi hailed him. "Serena here was stung by a wasp."

"Bee," the babe said in a brisk, un-babe-like voice.

Darien found that she was looking critically at him, not Zoi. Her eyes were large, clear cerulean blue, lushly fringed by dark curling lashes and tilted ever so slightly at the outer corners.

Bimbo, yes…brainless, no…No amount of mascara or cheesy grins could disguise the intelligence lurking in those crystal clear depths.

"Are you another one of those damned woman's magazine? I've already told your editor where she can stick her story!" He felt a grim satisfaction as he watched her high voltage smile gutter.

The reference meant nothing to Serena, so she could shake her head in vigorous denial with a clear conscience.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." His silence oozed disbelief. "You _are _Darien Shields…?" A case of mistaken identity…? The optimist in her soared before his abrasive response brought her crashing with a thud.

"I know who I am, who are you?"

Serena blinked several times, and tried not to act as if she felt slightly singed by those blazing midnight blue eyes. He was tall without being lanky, broad of shoulder without being bulky, and darkly beautiful in a dangerous Byronic hero sort of way…in short, a knock-out! She felt a spurt of indignation. Why hadn't someone warned her?

In the masculine beauty stakes she'd have rated him, on a scale of one to ten, at a conservative twelve and a half! She couldn't help but reflect that it would have been an aesthetic tragedy if a face like that had been scarred; as it was, the only immediate evidence of his injuries was a thin scar that ran from a point midway along his prominent cheekbone to his temple.

He'd probably laugh when she explained…they'd laugh together. Another look at that lean uncompromising face with its intriguing planes and angles told her that she was taking optimism too far! Whatever else this job was going to be, it wasn't going to be a laugh a minute.

To prove that she wasn't intimidated, an uphill battle, she smiled serenely, and the dark fallen angel's face didn't budge. There wasn't even the suggestion of a quiver around the beautifully sculpted lips.

Faced with belligerent antagonism on the face of her patient, and Serena was getting the distinct impression that this wasn't the sort of man who would respond to gentle understanding, she felt a twinge of nostalgia for the pale, pliable mummy's boy of her imagination.

There was nothing even faintly pliable about the man who was looking at her with the sort of affection most folk reserved for something nasty they'd discovered on their shoe! He might be using crutches but nothing about him said vulnerable. Even in less than full working order he exuded an almost tangible aura of restless vitality.

"I'm Serenity Alcobar."

Illness must have taken its toll but he wasn't making any concessions to it. Probably those lines around his eyes and hard but sexy mouth hadn't been so deeply ingrained before his incident; long term pain probably had a lot to do with the faint blue smudges under those fairly spectacular eyes too. Those deep set, heavy lidded orbs were just as startlingly blue as his mother's, but where as her's sparkled with humor his held a restless almost explosive quality in fact there was something combustible about the entire man!

"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

"I think that maybe the sting is still in," Zoi fretted. "What are you supposed to use for bee's stings, vinegar…?"

The babe firmly repossessed her arm. "I've got some hydrocortisone cream in my bag." She dismissed the throb in her arm with a careless shrug.

"And where might your bag be?" Darien asked, looking around for any sign of transport.

"In my room." Her eyes innocently sought the second floor window in an effort to locate the charming room she'd been allocated.

The significance of the gesture wasn't lost on Darien. "Are you trying to tell me you're actually staying here? What the hell is going on?" he barked.

"I assumed you'd be expecting me. I'm your physiotherapist, Mr. Shields."

"Not the best cover story. I don't have a physiotherapist."

"You mustn't worry, your mother…" Darien watched as she gave self conscious glance towards Zoi. The composed little voice with the rasp dropped to a confidential whisper. "She's paying my salary."

"_Hah_!" Darien wasn't sure why he should be worried about her salary but at the mention of his parent things started to make a lot more sense.

His mother was untiring in her determination to fling females she considered suitable mates in his path, in the mistaken belief that a grandchild was the key to healing the rift between father and son. "My mother, I should have guessed."

His scrutiny slid over Serena from head to toe in a bodily insolent way that had her chin rising to an aggressive angle.

"Impressive," His eyes lingered on the contour of her full breasts.

Which was more than could be said for his manners! But Serena could cope with crude sexual innuendo; she'd stopped rounding her shoulders in a futile attempt to hide her womanly attributes when she was about fifteen. She squared said shoulders proudly and clung to her temper with difficulty.

"I'm terminating your contract, Blondie."

That was the best news that she'd heard for sometime, and was on the tip of her tongue to tell him so when she recalled the promise Drusilla had wrung out of her. Concentrating on the state of her debts made it easier to retain her composure.

"My name is Serenity Alcobar. You can call me Miss Alcobar or at a push Serena. I don't answer to _Blondie_. And I'm not leaving until your _mother_ tells me my services are no longer required." Her rigid stance faded as her stormy blue eyes softened. "Pride is all well and good, Mr. Shields," she announced in a kindly way. "But whether you like it or not" she cast a swift professional eye over his tall, broad shouldered figure "you do need me."

Darien looked baffled by her response.

"Are you slow or what…?" He didn't need this, not now. He was in pain, hot, tired and had a hank of hair in his eyes and no free hand to push it away. As always the mortifying consequences of illness made him mad enough to yell and curse. It took a lot of self control to restrain his inclination to indulge in both.

"It's probably the pain that's making you so tetchy." She kept her tone objective, not that it made his reaction any less hostile. From the way his eyes flashed and his jaw tightened, she assumed he took any reference to his physical weakness as a direct insult; some men were like that.

"I'm not in pain." Darien bellowed, throwing caution to the winds. The muscles in his left leg chose that precise moment to go into a painful spasm. Darien swore under his breath and gritted his teeth against the pain.

"I told you not to go into the office." There was a concerned note in his friend's voice.

"Save me your sanctimonious I-told-you-sos." Darien closed his eyes and forced himself not to fight the wave of pain. Experience had taught him that tensing up only prolonged the spasms.

"You didn't bring him straight here from the clinic…?"

"He wouldn't let me."

"I really don't see there was much he could do to stop you!" Serena responded crisply.

Her eyes were compassionate as she looked at the tall figure who was obviously suffering considerable pain. When he tried to shrug off the supportive hand she had placed beneath his elbow she diplomatically pretended not to notice his efforts to dislodge her light grip.

"You don't know Darien," Zoi returned wryly.

Serena resisted the childish impulse to assure him that she didn't want to.

"Let's get him inside, shall we?" Darien heard the bimbo say, just before he had to endure the ultimate indignity of being hustled like a baby through the door between his best friend and the Blondie.

Dear God, it had been bad enough when those nurses has fussed and fretted; this was more than flesh and blood could be expected to take!

"When did he last take his medication?"

Darien lifted hi dark head from the brocade covered chaise lounge they'd deposited him on. "What are you asking him for? I'm not dumb!" he snarled.

"We should be so lucky," his friend breathed quietly.

"What was that Zoi…?" Darien growled.

"When did you last take any pain relief?" You didn't need to be a psychic to figure out that wiping the sheen of perspiration from his furrowed brow would not go down well. Fortunately, his color was looking healthier than it had outside.

Serena's eyes slowly worked their way up the strong column of his throat to his lean, angular face. Though pale after his hospitalization, Darien Shields had the sort of olive skin tones that would darken given the first hint of sunlight.

She had the sudden and deeply distracting image of him stretched out on a beach, his skin gleaming with a healthy glow. She gave her head the tiniest of shakes to dispel the unprofessional hallucination.

She gave a whimsical but worried grin. Just as well he didn't have a personality to match his looks or she might have trouble staying impersonal! If someone had forced her to produce a fantasy lover he would have looked remarkably similar to Darien Shields, which just went to show that looks weren't everything!

"I need a drink not a pill. Pass me a Scotch, Zoi."

Serena wondered if he ever said _please_ as she laid a restraining hand on Zoi's arm.

"I don't suppose there's any reason you can't have both, but it depends on what sort of painkillers you're taking."

"I'm not taking pain relief…I don't need crutches of any kind," he announced with scornful and not strictly accurate distaste.

Lips compressed into a stubborn white line, he rose to his feet. Deliberately ignoring the crutches and his audience's combined concern; he walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whisky.

Serena was pretty sure that every step he took was agony but the only external evidence of this in his drawn face was the beads of sweat that appeared across his lower lip. The man had guts, she had to hand him that. It was just a pity he didn't channel his energies into something more constructive than thumping his nose at the world in general and her in particular!

He lifted the glass in a mocking salute before downing the amber liquid in one swallow.

"A pill to go to sleep another to wake…I'm not buying into that merry go round. I thought pain was the body's way of telling a person something."

Darien had been the soul of restraint up until very recently. Even when they hadn't known how bad the spinal damage was, and life in a wheelchair had been a nightmare possibility, he'd manage to retain control of his stiff upper lip.

It had been the killing _slowness_ of the whole convalescence thing that had finally made him snap. He was used to setting himself a goal and working towards it; he didn't see why getting back to full fitness should be any different, but the blasted medics were constantly holding him back.

"Going on the evidence so far, I rather doubt you've been listening to your body at all this morning, Mr. Shields."

She'd seen his type before, though not quite so spectacularly packaged, the sort of man that'd push himself and his body to the limit of endurance and beyond. That sort of willpower made a person successful at anything he set his mind to but also made him a terrible patient!

"My mother may think that I need the attentions of some sultry little nurse…"

To Serena's intense discomfort he did the undressing thing with his eyes again. She didn't doubt for a second that it was meant to unsettle her, but she'd not give him the satisfaction of showing how well the crude tactic worked.

"…but I can assure you I don't. So ignoring the fact that I've fired you isn't going to change my mind."

It wasn't a comfortable experience being pinned down by those arrogant eyes but Serena knew it would be fatal to back down at this point. However, facing down this man was proving to be one of the hardest things that she'd ever done. It made her shudder to think how difficult it would be to thwart him when he was fully fit. She didn't think she'd ever come across anyone who had such an ingrained aura of command.

"I'm a physio, not a nurse."

"If you say so…"

Did the man think that she was pretending for God's sake? Serena repressed the strong inclination to dig out her certificates and wave them under his infuriating nose.

"Ignoring the fact that you are in pain isn't going to make it go away," she responded serenely.

Did she think he didn't know that? Darien ground his teeth.

"And being rude and unreasonable isn't going to make me go away either. I've worked with some very difficult children…"

A chocking noise emerged from Zoi's throat. Darien was too stunted to notice his friend's heaving shoulders.

"Are you suggesting that I'm acting like a _child_?" he grated incredulously.

"You are only a child to your mother, Mr. Shields," she explained kindly. "To me you're simply a client."

The little witch was patronizing him! The fact that she looked like a fantasy figure made the fact that she acted like a damned nanny all the more unpalatable. What sort of underwear did a nanny-pin-up hybrid wear, naughty black lace or prissy white cotton? His mental preoccupation with her damned underwear represented yet another example of his diminished mental control to Darien.

"_Client_?" he snarled. "A fancy name for a patient! Bloody doctors!" he yelled, his frustration showing. "What do they know…?"

Hell! Why not go the whole way and stamp your feet, Darien? Small wonder her smile had a definite smug tinge to it. What, he wondered, had happened to the man of few words, none of them sultry, who could alter the curse of a high powered meeting with an effortlessly enigmatic look? It was humiliating to be forced to recognize he'd substituted enigmatic for infantile!

"About flying a helicopter, probably nothing," she soothed. Darien was beginning to be able to predict the precise moment that the dimple would peep out. "About relieving pain, hopefully quite a lot. It might seem very macho to suffer in silence but there's nothing particularly clever about suffering when there is no need. There's no disgrace in admitting you need help." With a small frown, her critical eyes ran over his stubbornly erect frame. If he'd ever had any excess flesh on his greyhound lean figure, it had been burned off long ago. "Actually, I'm surprised they discharged you so soon."

"_So soon_?" he blasted. The memory of weeks and months of immobility was still in sharp focus in his mind as he glared with intense dislike at the interfering female his mother had seen fit to inflict upon him.

"They didn't discharge him," Zoi volunteered. "Though I suspect they might be breathing a large collective sigh of relief about now. You'll probably find this hard to believe, but he was the perfect patient up until about three weeks ago…uncomplaining, charming…"

"Displaying the desired degree of dog like obedience…" Darien cut in savagely.

"You're right; I do find it hard to believe."

Darien glanced at her sharply. So Miss Sugar and Spice had claws, he mussed thoughtfully. The discovery made her slightly less objectionable…_very_ slightly!

"Then almost overnight it was bye-bye Mr. Nice Guy! I suppose everyone has their breaking point, even Darien Shields."

"I think you are overplaying the irony," Darien growled darkly.

"You've always had a problem with delegating, haven't you, Darien?" Zoi observed with an innocent smile. "I think he'd have secretly preferred if his empire had crumpled without him at the helm."

Darien glared at his oldest friend with intense dislike.

Serena found the talk of empires, a private joke…maybe, a bit confusing but what she did understand from the interchange brought a deep furrow to her smooth brow.

"So he discharged himself against medical advice…?" Drusilla had said nothing about that!

"_What if I did_?" Darien asked belligerently. "And, if it's not too much bother, do you mind not talking about me in a third person? I've had it up to here," he jabbed his hand up against his forehead which did nothing to improve his headache, and almost made him lose his balance, "with medical busybodies! There's nothing more anyone else, no matter how many medical degrees they've got, can do for me now. Anything that happens from this point onwards is up to me."

Serena's worried frown grew more pronounced. If he wasn't prepared to accept limitations he could put back his recovery for months.

"I'll have to talk to your doctor," she announced decisively, "What's his name?"

"Hasn't sunk in yet, baby face? I fired you. Come to that, I never even employed you!"

"I'm not working for you; I'm working for Drusilla."

"Drusilla," Darien drawled with a cynical smile. "How cozy."

"Fuhurata. His doctor's called Fuhurata."

Zoidecided that the angel's smile was well worth the murderous glare he received from Darien.

"And the clinic is…?"

* * *

"There's a name for friends like you." Darien announced grimly when the so called physio had whisked busily away to have a heart-to-heart with his doctor.

Zoi smiled unrepentantly back. "Sorry old son. Why don't you go sit down?" he suggested. "_I _already know you're made of steel," he added slyly as Darien limped over to an armchair. "It strikes me, Darien, that you are being awkward for the sake of it. You said yourself what a pain it was going to be traipsing off to the local hospital for a physio every other day."

"I'm quite capable of employing my own physio. And if the babe doesn't go, I will! I don't have to stay here," he railed. "If my place has too many steps, I'll buy another one. I've no intention of going along with one of my mother's little schemes."

Zoi grinned. "She just wants to see you with a good woman."

Darien's expression grew even more cynical. "Of her own choosing."

"Well, maybe she's got a point. Delegating the task might not be such a bad idea…not with your record. I mean, what man in his right mind would get engaged to Beryl!"

"I wasn't engaged to Beryl, except in her fevered imagination."

"You know that, I know that but thousands of readers of the popular press think you're an object of pity."

"Thanks for that Zoi. I feel much better already." Darien came back, dry as dust.

"You've had your chance to set the record straight," Zoi reminded him, tongue firmly in his cheek.

A scornful sound escaped Darien's throat. "I'd prefer to slit my throat than become a human interest story in a woman's magazine." There was genuine horror in his eyes.

"How can you be so sure that she isn't genuine…?"

Darien gave a decisive snort. "You have a charmingly naïve view of women, Zoi. I think I almost envy you."

"I'm not bitter and twisted, and proud of it," Zoi added with a touch of lazy defiance.

"You're a sicker for a pretty face…"

"_Pretty_ doesn't really do her justice."

"I find it hard to see past the simpering smile."

Serena's bosom swelled with indignation, she had never simpered in her life! Her fingers tightened around the door handle.

"Darien!" Zoi exclaimed, shocked by the irreverence.

Darien remained unrepentant. "My mother is totally unscrupulous when it comes to getting what she wants, and at the moment she wants a grandchild. She's always thought that no man can resist a cleavage." His expression was grim as he reflects on the callous machinations of his manipulative parent.

"To tell you the truth, Darien, as far as cleavages go I've always thought much the same myself." Zoi admitted.

Despite the pain he was enduring, Dairen's lips twitched. "Under that choir boy façade, Zoi O'Malley, there lurks the soul of a debauched swine."

"Chance would be a fine thing. You can't tell me that you don't find her at all attractive?" Zoi regarded his friend with open skepticism.

On the point of walking in, Serena paused. She found her own hesitation predictable and pathetic; but what girl, she reasoned, could resist hearing whether a man, even if she didn't like him, found her fancy able…?

"She's got all the right equipment, but it's the cabbage scenario."

"Cabbage?" Zoi's tone echoed the sort of bewilderment Serena was feeling.

"During my formative years everyone, nannies, parents, school teachers, they were all constantly telling me how good it was for me. Naturally, I developed a loathing for the stuff which lasts to this day."

"So you want a woman that is bad for you?"

"You're missing the point Zoi. I don't want one someone thinks I _should_ want."

That was what you get for eavesdropping! Serena had never been likened to cabbage before, she'd have remembered.

She wouldn't have been human if she hadn't allowed her mind to dwell on the pleasant picture of Darien Shields as a helpless victim of her irresistible charms. It would have been petty to dwell for too long on the image of his despair when she rejected him.

His antagonism made perfect sense now. No wonder he was acting like a real pain in the posterior if he thought his mother had sent her to land a husband! This was an embarrassing mistake she could easily correct.

Her upbeat expression as she walked into the room didn't even hint that she cared about the cabbage thing.

"You've got it all wrong. I don't want to marry you…For heaven's sake, I don't even like you!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife **and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings: **This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary**: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

There was a startled pause during which Serena prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her. It didn't, and she was left wondering why she I'd imagined for a second that matters would improve by telling a man she couldn't stand the sight of him!

"That must be a weight off your mind, Darien." Zoi's voice quivered ever so slightly.

_Straight from the heart! _The muscles of Darien's throat worked overtime as he fought back the unexpected laughter… Watching her face fall as she realized what she'd had just said struck him as one of the funniest he'd seen in ages… But then, if his dearest and nearest were to be believed, he had a particularly warped sense of humor.

"I have to tell you that there are some serious flaws in your seduction technique, Miss Alcobar." The gibe was delivered in a manner that suggested he was generously offering her advice. He didn't normally get a kick out of seeing people grovel, but there were exceptions… No man, no matter how secure he was, liked being told a beautiful woman didn't fancy him. He speculated, in a lazy, objective kind of way, how hard would it be to make her change her mind. Rejection didn't occur to Darien.

Serena cheeks grew hotter as she squirmed under his malicious scrutiny… So she's put both feet in it. It wasn't very charitable of him to labor the fact… and enjoy it so much!

"If you automatically assume every woman you meet is out to seduce you, perhaps you need the services of a good psychiatrist, not a physio!" Go on, Serena, you tell him; it's not as if you _need_ the job, is it?

Darien met her defiant glare with a thoughtful expression. So, no groveling.

She braced herself, pretty sure he was going to say something blighting, and pretty sure she deserved it, but when those heavy lids lifted he just stared… Serena had never personally encountered a stare quite like this. She found that she could readily visualize innocent men confessing to heinous crimes if forced to endure that expressionless intensity for too long! She was glad that the only thing she was guilty of was clumsiness!

"It's not personal or anything." His sardonic stare underlined the stupidity of her stilted statement. "I mean, I'm sure you're a very nice person… _underneath_…" Underneath being a dyed in the wool misogynist, that was.

Was this meant to soothe his bruised ego…? Nobody as far as Darien could recall had ever called him 'nice' before as if they mean it, let alone as if they didn't mean it!

The dangerous glitter in his eyes made Serena feel even more flustered. She decided that it might be a good time to change tactics!

"I suppose you find it odd that Drusilla didn't tell you about me… Actually," She conceded thoughtfully. "I do too."

"I'm sure she had her reasons."

Serena tried to ignore the nasty _knowing_ note in his voice and raked her brains for reasonable explanation to account for Drusilla Shield's strange behavior in dropping her like this.

"She was probably worried you wouldn't want me," she mused half to herself.

That had a nice self effacing note to it. A cynical smile twisted his lips as Darien's eyes slowly travelled the length of her curvaceous figure; this wasn't a woman who lay awake at nights worrying about rejection.

Serena continued her meandering explanation, oblivious to his cynical observations.

"I really need this job you see," It was probably way too late to remember that.

Now there was a statement that just begged a question, and if he asked it, he'd laid money on her being able to produce a first class sob story… Ironically, he was half inclined to believe it might even be true! If this was acting, it was Oscar material.

"Simple philanthropy rarely covers my mother's behavior…"

"It's true," Serena fired back, angry on Drusilla's behalf. "Your mother was being _kind_ to me, offering me the job… not that I'm not very qualified," She frowned fiercely and divided her glare that said she was willing to defend her credentials between both men. "You see, she went to school with my mom, and she knew that I was in a bit of a fix… moneywise…" An uncomfortable flush mounted her smooth cheeks as she hastily skipped over the subject.

"I can't help but feel it might have been simpler all round if she'd just given you the money, not foisted you on me."

Serena's eyes widened in indignation. "I don't take charity!"

"A girl with principles," he drawled.

"You find that funny?" she snapped from between clenched teeth.

"I find it commendable," he replied with such patent insincerity that Serena felt like hitting him over the head with one of his crutches. She didn't normally have such violent inclinations, but he was an _extremely_ trying man.

"I'm more than capable of working for my money…"

"And is this… project paying well?"

This was one nasty insinuation too many, as far as Serena was concerned. "Let's just say that I'd need to be getting an awful lot more if the job description included trying to get romantic with you! I don't mean to be rude,"

"You do surprise me,"

"But you did ask," she finished defiantly. "And I don't know why you are getting so offended. Nobody's suggested _you're_ stupid and avaricious enough to agree to marry someone if you were paid enough!"

"I don't think my mother paid you." He didn't add that the prospect of being his wife would be financial inducement enough for a lot of women… Maybe not this woman…? Definitely not this woman! It had been sometime since he'd met a starry eyed idealist, which no doubt accounted for the fact that it had taken him so long to recognize this one. In his opinion, idealism was a dangerously unpredictable trait.

Her eyebrows shot up in elaborate surprise. "You think I'd do it for free?" She flung back childishly. For the first time she glimpsed a flicker of genuine humor in his electric midnight blue eyes.

"I think she was relying on propinquity and my natural charm to do the job," he responded dryly. He smiled and provided her with a brief but dazzling flash of that charm. "You look dubious… but you see, mothers," he explained gravely. "Are notoriously blind when it comes to their offspring."

"I didn't mean to be,"

Darien waved aside her protest with a faint movement of his long tapering fingers. "Personal… I know. For someone who is keen on professional detachment, you cram in more insults per minute than anyone else I've ever met."

"_But_…"

"Calm down, that's not bad."

"It isn't?"

"I can't abide boot lickers," he announced blandly. "Let's say for one minute that you can swear hand on heart," his focus shifted to the region where that organ was housed, and lingered there. "That you're only here to continue the torture inflicted on me by members of your profession in the clinic."

Serena let out a silent sigh of relief as his eyes finally lifted. She just hoped and prayed her top was thick enough to hide the tingling activity on her nipples.

"That does not alter the fact that if I decide I need a resident nurse or physio, I'd prefer one of my own choosing…"

Serena was still preoccupied by the inexplicable behavior of her body to summon up the necessary energy to fight him on this; besides, as much as she needed this job she wasn't about to beg. "It wont take me long to pack." She made a conscious effort to belatedly put a bit of dignity back into the proceedings. Actually, some things were worse than being in debt, things like being eaten with lust for a man you didn't even like!

"I thought that t you needed the job…"

Anyone would think he gave a damn! Serena fixed him with an angry incredulous stare. He definitely was the most perverse man she'd ever encountered.

"She does, she does…"

Serena had almost forgotten the other man's prescience.

"Your concern for my well being is touching, Zoi. I'm well aware that it wouldn't go with your plans if I went for a male physio built like a barn…" Darien taunted his lust sick friend with idle affection.

Zoi blushed and glanced uncomfortably in Serena's direction. "If you weren't ill…"

"Don't sulk in front of the lady, Zoisite…"

"I wasn't sulking!"

Serena, happy to be distracted from the wantonly indiscriminate behavior of her own body, gave a weak indulgent smile as she watched the two men good naturally bicker. The rapport between them obviously went deep. An extraordinary notion occurred to her, and her jaw dropped as her eyes darted rapidly from one man to the other and back again. It couldn't be, _could it_? As unlikely as the explanation seemed, it would explain why his mother felt Darien wasn't going to get a wife without a lot of encouragement.

"Heavens, I didn't realize!" she blurted out, without thinking. Her mind was racing. Why didn't that possibility occurred to her before? After all, one of the most masculine, _straight_ looking men she knew was gay.

"Realize what?" Darien asked.

"It's alright," she explained soothingly. "One of my best friends is gay, and his parents found it hard to accept at first too, but they came around eventually and…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife **and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings: **This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary**: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"_Gay!_" Zoi, his eyes round, looked at his hand, innocently resting on Darien's shoulder, and with a horrified snort jerked it away.

Serena smiled in what she hoped was an opened minded nonjudgmental sort of way as she tried to analyze her somewhat ambivalent response to this discovery. There didn't seem any harm now to acknowledge that the prospect of treating a man who she found so physically attractive, in a butterflies-in-the-belly… _tingly_ sort of way, had been bothering her. She ought to be feeling much happier… much less cheated… _cheated_? Where had that come from?

She kept attention carefully trained on Zoi. "You don't owe me any explanations." she told him warmly.

Zoi looked with smoldering resentment at his friend who, after a startled pause, had begun laughing.

"This is your fault," he accused widely. "I told you that you should have got a haircut."

"I had no idea that sexual orientation had any direct connection with hair length."

"Stop mocking around, will you?" Zoi yelled. "_Tell her we're not_!"

"It's no good Zoi, she's guessed!" Darien intoned dramatically.

"Cut it out, Darien!" Zoi begged looking slightly sick. He felt unable to take this slur on his masculinity as lightly as his friend seemed.

It was slowly dawning in Serena that yet again she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Oh God!" she groaned. "I've got all wrong haven't I?"

"Sorry Miss Alcobar, but we are both strictly hereto..." If she got any redder there was a good chance she'd spontaneously combust, he thought, watching her discomfort with a degree of spiteful pleasure.

"This could be a double bluff to get me where you want me…" Darien mused thoughtfully.

Which presumably was flat on his back and helpless! The mental image that accompanied this maverick thought of her astride his prone body had enough detail to deepen the color in her already pink cheeks significantly. She didn't normally fantasize about having a man at her mercy!

"But I'm inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"_You are_?"

"Unless, of course, you want to reveal that you actually you find me and this broken body irresistible…?" It bothered him like hell to detect the faint note of self pity in his voice. As far as he was concerned, self pity had no constructive value and therefore no place in his life. Self pity was for losers.

"Heavens!" Serena exclaimed, so thoroughly thrown off balance by this remarkable change in his attitude that she forgot about professional reticence. "Dr. Fuhuratta forgot to mention your mood swings."

It was what he hadn't forgotten to tell her that interested Darien, whose eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "Sounds like good old Andrew was very obliging…"

With an exasperated sigh, Serena planted her hands on her softly rounded hips. A little toss of her head made the honey gold ponytail dance in a way that charmed at least one of the men watching her performance.

"Don't start with that again or I'm out of here…" God, when will I learn to control my tongue? If he called her bluff, the schedule she'd worked out to repay the last of the debts would have to go out the window. She crossed her fingers firmly.

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Serena heaved a sigh of relief. "Your mother had warned him that I'd probably be ringing…"

"That's Mom, all right. She thinks of everything."

Serena loftily ignored this acid interjection. "As I was saying," she continued frostily, "Dr. Fuhuratta merely supplied me with _medical_ details." She didn't mention that during the curse of their telephone conversation the doctor's grudging admiration of his patient had come across loud and clear.

"It's always handy to know that someone is likely to throw a wobbler if you mention _wheelchair_," she added slyly.

She let this sink in for a moment and watched from under the sweep of her lashes for Darien's reaction. A slow grin slowly spread over his face; it filled his eyes with unexpected and dangerously attractive warmth.

"Do you _really_ think you are such a great catch?" She grouched.

So it wasn't tactful, but a girl had her breaking point! And it was something that Serena felt needed saying; this man had an entirely too great opinion of himself! So what if he had a smile that could melt a girl's bones?

Darien wasn't a vain man, but he did take some things for granted and one of them was, to put it crudely as Zoi had on more than one occasion, his _pulling_ power! Without realizing it, over the years he had come to expect a certain degree of appreciation from females.

It wasn't as if he had any illusions about what attracted many women and in Darien's view it wasn't the fascination with his blue eyes! He had money and power, and a particular sort of woman liked men who could provide them with those things. How else did you explain the hordes of drop dead gorgeous lovelies on the arms of men old enough to be theirs grandfathers?

Despite normally evincing a healthy cynicism for that sort of adulation, now, reading the scorn in Serena's wide eyes, he decided that uncritical worship might not be so bad after all! Just how hard, he speculated, his lips settling into a brooding line of dissatisfaction, would it be to replace that superior disdain with indiscriminate drooling desire…? Now _that_ might be the sort of therapy he needed!

"You were going, I think, Zoicite." Darien said without taking his eyes off Serena.

"I was...?" It occurred to Zoi that, as far as the woman of his dreams was concerned, he had never really been there at all; he tried to take the fact that he wasn't making any contribution towards the electric atmosphere in the room philosophically.

"Don't worry; I think I'll be quite safe in Miss Alcobar's capable hands."

Darien couldn't ignore the stimulating effect this image had on his jaded imagination... It was the undies question rearing its ugly head again. Were lingerie fetishes a normal result of several months of enforced celibacy...? There could be a paper in this for good old Dr. Fuhuratta...

Serena could hardly believe the startling alternating in his manner. He sounded suspiciously like a normal, rational human being; there was even a hint of beguiling warmth ion his voice!

"You don't mind me being here?" Serena discovered she felt rather ambivalent about this breakthrough. She did have the offer of several temporarily beds...Would you really prefer to be a burden to yours friends? She asked herself sternly.

"I want to throw those," his electric blue gaze lit momentarily on the discarded crutches. "Out for good. If you can speed up the process I'd be a fool to object, wouldn't I?"

It _sounded _reasonable... "Yes, you would." It seemed that he was no longer fearful that she could seduce him... How did you go about seducing someone...? With her rudimentary grasp of the subject, she'd probably produce a seduction routine that would have him laughing some more. She still felt like wincing when she thought about the sound of his deep, inhibited amusement at her expense.

"Then that's settled."

"Your mother said that you,"

Darien didn't want much to know what his mother said. "I thought you two were on first name basis...?" Darien interrupted her flow.

"Is that a problem Mr. Shields?"

"Nobody calls me Mr. Shields."

Serena's mobile featured screwed up in an uneasy frown. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable using your first name..." She wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about this... It wasn't as if she was renowned for her formality.

"I'm sure we all want you to be comfortable..." he responded smoothly.

Then, why she wondered, everything he did appear to be specifically designed to make her feel uneasy...? "No, I'm sure it will be fine... Shields..."

"Darien. And you are...?"

"Serena."

"Which is short for what...? Selenity...?"

"Serenity," she supplied feeling a strange reluctance to divulge any personal information, no matter how innocuous, to this man.

"Serenity... Irish...?"

When he wasn't barking orders or sounding paranoid, Darien Shields had a sinfully attractive voice. The sort of voice that had a color and texture, in this case, midnight blue and velvet; when you close your eyes to appreciate the resonance. Serena didn't close her eyes, but it was a close call!

"On my mother's side," she confirmed.

"Me, too."

"I know. They went to school together, but they hadn't seen each other for years and years," she added swiftly, in case it got him started on the conspiracy theory again. "Not until recently."  
Darien didn't need to be hit in the head with evasion to recognize it. He'd always been good at picking up on things people didn't say. It was a good trait that had done him no harm in his business dealings. He felt his curiosity stir as he wondered about what Serena was leaving unsaid.

*********************

Serena was sorry to see Zoi go. She'd felt he might be a useful ally in hostile territory. Serena was realistic; she had her foot in the door, but she was pretty sure that this was only the first hurdle. She soon discovered her instincts were right.

"I'll use the room I always do, thank you, Luna. If you could have my bags moved upstairs at some point I'd be grateful." Despite the pleasant smile he had for the housekeeper, there was no doubt Darien hadn't liked discovering he'd been put in the ground-floor guest suite.

The housekeeper, who Serena had had down as the unemotional type, had all but wept with joy at seeing Darien. There was no accounting for taste! She now cast a look of urgent appeal in Serena's direction as she left the room.

The door closed and Serena could no longer keep a hold on her tongue. She was too exasperated by this point to wrap up her criticism in sugar-coated terms. So far, their cozy _getting to know one another_ chat, he had vetoed every tentative suggestion she'd made, for no reason as far as she could see other than pig headed awkwardness, plain and simple.

"I suppose that's one way to prove you're in control. Lay down the law, watch them jump and don't worry," she soothed nastily. "Even if they think that what you are saying is stupid they're not likely to say so!"

Serena had never met a more obstinate individual! For the life of her she couldn't understand why the staff here seemed so delighted to have him staying, it was bizarre. The housekeeper particularly seemed a very sensible woman, which made her reaction to Darien all the more incomprehensible.

Perhaps the man had hidden depths…? No, Serena decided, with an angry sniff, if he did have depths they were probably murky. Either, it was a mass case of hypnotism or the whole place must be particularly susceptible to blue eyes; there was no other explanation.

The thought drew her own angry eyes back to his. There was no escaping the fact that his eyes were _very_ blue. Serena herself had found her own gaze repeatedly drawn towards his thickly lashed deep set of eyes as their conversation had become increasingly one side. Right now the main expression she could see in those azure depths was shock… Perhaps he didn't expect the paid help to answer back?

Darien settled back in his seat and reached for a slice of carrot cake, looked at it with a look as jaded as his palate and then put it back on the plate untouched.

"I take it you don't feel equally stifled when it comes to the subject of my stupidity?"

"Are you going to eat that?"

"Why, do you want it?" He held out the plate towards her. So far she'd gone through two slices and several of the wafer thin smoked salmon sandwiches.

"Very funny." Her lips lifted with impatience. "You never think about other people, do you?"

"Not feeling hungry puts me in the selfish and heartless category…?" Why was he surprised? She seemed able to imbue his most innocent actions with sinister intent. "Your logic is interesting, bizarre but interesting." Interlacing his fingers, he rested his chin thoughtfully on them. "I feel sure you are about to fill in the gaps for me."

"The afternoon tea." She waved her hand over the rather grand spread. "I bet everything here is your favorite," she accused.

Serena watched as his blue eyes swept over the food on the delicate china plates. Now that she'd pointed it out, he recognized favored tidbits from his school days. His shoulders lifted in a negligent concessionary shrug.

"Hah! I'm right!" she crowed.

"If you have a point to make, now is the time to make it."

"You don't see, do you?" She shook her head disapprovingly. "A lot of people went to great length of trouble to do something nice for you because for some reason I don't understand they care for you. How do you think they are going to feel when all of this goes back untouched?"The troubled frown that flickered across his face was barely discernable before his expression grew impatient. "I haven't liked sweets since I was twelve years old."

Her arms folded across her chest, and she wondered whether he had a better nature to appeal to. "You don't like… and I suppose that makes it alright to ride rough shod over people's feelings?"

His narrowed blue eyes drilled into her. "We are not talking cakes her, are we?"

"Your mother has gone to a lot of trouble specifically preparing those rooms for you."

This was obviously the point where he was meant to be overcome by remorse and self loathing.

"My mother isn't going to lose any sleep over where I choose to sleep," he drawled languidly.

"Well, if you are not bothered about hurting Drusilla's feelings…"

"You have a nasty habit of putting words into a man's mouth…" His eyes dwelt for a long distracted moment on the lush curves of her kissable lips… Other things might taste more palatable on his tongue than her acid recriminations.

"Consider the practicalities. Just how do you expect to get upstairs to your usual bedroom?" she asked him. "_Crawl…?_" Tact and compassion had their place, but not when dealing with Darien Shields. Empathy wasn't going to get her anywhere with this man but brutal practicality might.

She wanted to play hardball… fine. Darien suspected he'd had more practice at the pastime than Blondie here.

"I can't carry you; I suppose you _could_ employ some muscular young man…"

"I thought we'd already established I'm not into muscular young men…" he drawled.

Serena ignored this interruption designed to distract her, even thought the reminder made her flush. "But I expect your mother thought you'd prefer to be more independent."

"You think I'm ungrateful…?" With a twisted smile he watched her struggle with the temptation to rip his character to shreds some more.

"I've seen the suite, and it's conveniently close to the pool and the gym… Nothing could be more suitable."

Or decadent, at least as far as the leisure facilities were concerned. The Roman styled pool house complete with waterfall which had been converted from a stable block had taken Serena's breath away. It had made her want to tear off her clothes and immerse herself in that warm inviting water… Considering what had happened, it seemed ironic that back then she'd been concerned about first impressions; being caught skinny dipping hadn't seemed to capture the right note!

Serena was too startled to even squeak in protest when his hand shot out and he jerked her towards the chair he sat in. Off balance, she came down heavily on one knee; she only prevented herself from falling any further by bracing a hand against the arm of his chair.

"Is there some constructive reason you keep reminding me I'm an invalid?"

She took a couple of steadying breaths and inhaled undiluted Darien scent; it was an earthy, all male fragrance. A fresh wave of dizziness struck Serena. This man must have cornered the market in pheromones.

Her eyes slid to the fingers encircling her wrist. They were long and lean like the rest of him; their iron strength didn't feel at all sickly to her… She, on the other hand, didn't feel so great at all. Breathless, over fast pulse, sweaty palms both of which he'd probably noticed; a churning sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A wave of intense heat raised her body temperature several degrees.

"You are not an invalid but for the moment whether you like it or not you do have limitations…" Relief washed over her. Against all the odds she'd hit just the right note of objectivity and caring.

The slight imperious tilt of his dark head was a concessionary gesture; at least, for the sake of harmony that was the way she decided to interpret it.

Their eyes clashed and the harmony theory fell apart. Serena's ferociously pumping heart sent a surge of adrenaline around her body so fast that she felt light headed.

"So, incidentally, do I." This time her voice had a faint faraway quality. The focus of her troubled gaze shifted significantly to the fingers still encircling her wrist.

Her hot vision blurred so that for a moment she couldn't quite make out the defining line between his flesh and her own paler skin, the weak fluttery sensations low in her belly got stronger and more disturbing. It was all she could do to stop from tearing her hand away.

"And one of them is look but don't touch...?" His extended thumb moved thoughtfully over the blue veined inner aspect of her wrist. It must be the challenge; he'd never been able to resist one of those, which conjured up the fantasy image of Serena begging him to touch her.

The sweeping motion must have crossed over a sensitive nerve ending because the sharp electrical thrill Serena felt shot along her arm in both directions.

His hands fell away and her delicately curved eyebrows drew into a perplexed line as a wave of relief way out of proportion with the event washed over her. She felt pretty foolish on her knees but given the fact she wasn't sure if she had total control over her limbs, she didn't have much choice but to stay put.

"I can't stop people looking," she admitted huskily.

"So you can lay those pretty hands on me as much as you like." One dark brow lifted before he impatiently flicked a heavy section of dark collar length hair from his eyes. "But if I reciprocate you'll...?"

What would she do...? It was a purely academic speculation. Up until this moment he hadn't even thought about sex... He'd forgotten what a distraction it could be _thinking_ ... He was thinking a lot all of a sudden. He blamed on that responsive quiver he'd felt run through her body when he'd touched her. So the lovely Serenity wasn't being quite honest when she'd said she didn't fancy him... _Interesting_.

"I'll think that you have fallen for my fatal charm," she suggested acidly. "We can all live in hope."

Her snappy sarcasm lifted his brooding frown and brought a genuine grin to his face.

Despite her best efforts to remain dispassionate, Serena was charmed.

"I always think that _hope_ has an unpleasantly passive sound to it..."

Serena didn't need telling that she was in the presence of a man who didn't lie around hoping for things to happen; she was quite sure that he went out and made them happen. Everything about him said that he needed to be in control of his destiny.

"It's a harmless way to while away a wet afternoon though."

Even though Darien despised the soft-focus image that lodged in his brain of her starting through some rain drenched window, he had to admit it was an absurdly attractive one.

"And what do you hope for during those wet afternoons, Serenity?"

He had the kind of voice that could effortlessly make a girl believe he could fulfill all her hopes. Her eyes widen with alarm as the thought just popped into her head from God knew where!

"The usual things," she responded gruffly evasive.

"Like a husband, children, and a nice house in the suburbs…?" he speculated. "The traditional female things."

His patronizing attitude really got under her skin. "Those being things that ne man worthy of his testosterone would desire?"

"How many teenage boys would list becoming a father as one of their ambitions…?" One dark eyebrow quirked scornfully when she didn't respond.

"I rest my case."

"It's just as well one gender feels the urge to procreate or the human race wouldn't last long."

"Men feel urges, all right, but it's impregnation and not procreation that drives them," he explained crudely.

Serena felt herself blush like an adolescent; the fact that her blushes seem to amuse him only intensified her discomfort. She couldn't figure out how what had started out as a perfectly innocent conversation had denigrated into something so uncomfortable.

"Perhaps I have a higher regard for your sex than you do."

"Then more fool you, Serena. Fidelity is an alien concept to the vast majority of men."

"Perhaps, Mr. Shields, you judge all men by your own failings…"

"I'm an arrogant male, Serena. What makes you imagine I think I've got any failings?" he drawled. His deep laughter rang out once more before his eyebrows drew in a disapproving line. "And I thought we'd dispensed with the _Mr. Shields_.?"

Serena's tongue ran nervously over the outline of her dry lips.

"Do I make you nervous, Serenity?"

Wasn't that the idea? She wondered.

It was the one question that she would have liked to avoid, and he'd made her face it. Resentment reflected in her eyes, she met his deceptively innocent blue gaze warily…He made her incredibly jumpy and had done from the first moment.

"It's hardly surprising that I don't feel comfortable," she responded carefully. She responded carefully. You have made it very clear I'm here under sufferance."

Casually he flicked her softly rounded shin. "When you know me better…"

"I can hardly wait!" she mumbled.

Her face averted, Serena brushed some invisible specks off the dark grey trousers she wore beneath a white T-shirt. She rose smoothly to her feet. It ought to give at least the illusion of superiority to look down at him…It didn't. The slow charismatic grin that split his lean face held her dismayed gaze as surely as superglue.

"You'll know that I'm not big on forbearance. You are not here because I feel charitable. It'll be interesting to find out if you are half as good as you say you are..." He watched the color mount in her cheeks. "Professionally speaking, of course," he added smoothly.

She couldn't wait to prove her worth to this sarcastic swine...Of course, if she could have done it from the comparative safety of the neighboring country, she'd have been more eager! Inexplicably, she couldn't concentrate all that well in the same room as him...Inexplicable, my foot! A small derisive voice in her head scoffed. You can't keep your eyes off him and you are worried to death you wont be able to hide it when things get tactile.

"When did you have in mind?" she asked her voice brisk to the point of brusqueness. "I'll need to assess your capabilities, to begin with," she explains stodgily, "and work out a schedule that suits us..."

Darien rose with creditable style to his feet, unassisted. "There is plenty of time for that later..." He turned his wrist and glanced at the metal bonded watch. His eyes moved to the antique gilded ormolu click set on the mantel shelf. "Still slow," he confirmed, comparing the two times. "I knocked it off with a football when I was a kid; it's never kept time since then."

In her mind's eye, Serena softened the hard angles of his face and came up with a soft childish version. Had he been a serious little boy, or bit wild...?

"I'm afraid I'm expecting some visitors...business. Later, I'm all yours." There was nothing childlike or innocent about the gleam in his eyes.

"There are a lot of things to discuss," she choked, pulling her wayward imagination in line but it wasn't easy.

"Discuss away...I can give you three minutes."

"How kind," she bit back acidly. "I'd better talk fast then, hadn't I? For starters, what hours do you expect me to work? When is my free time?"

"You've not started yet and you are already asking for a day off...!" He shook his head in mock reproof. "What happened to stamina? What happened to dedication?"

"What happened to reasonable working conditions?" she came back smartly. "I already feel as if I've been on duty for twenty-four hour stretch…" Just talking to this man was amongst the most exhausting things she'd ever done. "_I wonder why?_" No wonder Drusilla had laughed when she'd said she would earn her money!

"Fine, let's get down to basics. I'm flexible. I don't like to tie myself down to specific times. I like people around me to be flexible too.

"Which means what, exactly?"

"Which means I need you to be in twenty four hour call."

Have no time to call her own? Be at his beck and call night and day with no time off for good behavior…? That was _so_ not on!

"I think you will find they abolished slavery some time ago."

"I'll pay you well…if you are good enough."

"Your mother is paying me," she reminded him.

"I'll treble whatever she is giving you."

"That's insane!" she gasped.

"But tempting?"

Serena's anger intensified. He sounded as if he thought everyone had a price. "It's not a matter of money."

"I thought that you were broke?" he reminded her languidly. "To lie well, you need a good memory."

"I wasn't lying!" she flared. "I'm broke!"

"Then I'm the answers to your prayers."

"Your touching modesty must make you friends wherever you go," she gasped, unable to totally repress the quiver of amusement in her voice…The man had arrogance off the scale. "You may not need to sleep…"

"_Need_ doesn't enter into it. I _can't_ sleep, full stop."

He looked just as surprised that he'd told her this as she had been to hear him admit it. Insomnia implied a weakness and, as far as she could tell, Darien didn't admit to those.

"What did the doctor say…?" she begun.

"I thought I made my opinion of drugs clear to you…" He looked as though he wouldn't need much encouragement to tell her again.

"You have. There are other ways to treat insomnia."

"_I know_…Then perhaps we should compare notes."

She didn't need the addition of his suggestive, husky laugh to realize this was a loaded comment.

"Relaxation techniques, for instance," she persisted doggedly.

"You do seem tense," he agreed.

Serena gritted her teeth. "I am perfectly relaxed!" she yelled.

"Of course you are."

"I'm willing to be reasonably flexible up to a point. I expected that, living in, but I can't possibly be on call twenty four seven."

"Why? Is there some boyfriend in the background who gets stroppy if you neglect him…or family commitments…?"

Her expression darkened.

"There is nobody," she said flatly.

Darien's eyes narrowed. He recognized no-go signs when he saw them. Was Serenity running away from a disastrous love affair…?

"Then where is the problem?" His tone implied she was unreasonably creating problems were there weren't any. "Good, then that's settled."

"I didn't agree to anything."

"But you will do after a little more fencing. I'm just saving time. Incidentally, you wanted to assess my capabilities…"

Puzzled by the reference, she nodded.

"Most people think I can do anything." He grinned down into her startled face, picked up a cake off the plate and crammed it whole into his mouth. He jammed open the door with a crutch.

Darien raised his voice. "Send Miss Valdez and Mr. Scott into the library, will you, Mrs. Nichols?"

On cue the doorbell rang.

I wonder how he does that?

"And, Mrs. Nichols, will you have my things moved again? Miss Alcobar thinks I should sleep downstairs." He turned back to Serena. "_Satisfied_?"

Serena refused to be thawed by the charm in his smile. The memory of how it had felt when he'd forced her down on he knees besides him kept popping into her head at the most inconvenient moments; this resulted in her nervous system being in constant state of a painful alert. She pursed her lips in disapproval.

"You should be resting not entertaining."

""This is business, not pleasure."

"That's even worse!" she exclaimed in an appalled voice. "You should be taking things easy."

Darien gave a long suffering sigh. "Try and keep your maternal inclinations under control, Serenity." He advised in a bored drawl.

Serena gave a gasp of outrage and went bright red. Her hands curled into small fists; the awful wretch had as good as called her _mumsy_.

"I can assure you;" she choked, "that I don't feel even _vaguely_ maternal towards you!"

Darien's wicked grin flashed out.

"I thought not bit it's nice to have it confirmed."

Serena was left to massage the stiff muscles of her neck and think wistful thoughts about hospitals, boring routines, and patients who hadn't started shaving!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife **and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings: **This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary**: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she is there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Later that evening, Serena was sitting on the bed, reading or at least _trying_ to read in her room when there was a discreet knock on her door. She got off the bed and almost guiltily smoothed the quilt. "Come in," she called self consciously.

The housekeeper appeared. She smiled in a friendly way at Serena. "I was just wondering; miss, if you would like a tray in your room? I'm going to have my supper in the kitchen; you can join me if you want to...?"

Serena gave a sigh of relief. She shouldn't have worried that she was expected to dine with Darien. "Please, is Serena..."

She was glad that she hadn't given into the foolish, vain impulse of changing into something less functional on the off chance that she would be summoned to provide a sparkling dinner companion for Darien. She was the hired help, and as she told herself stoutly, glad of it too! What girl with an ounce of sense would want to dress up in a skimpy frock and sit across from the most scandalously good looking man in the world?

"I would like that, to eat with you I mean. I was beginning to feel a bit lonesome." This seemed the time to come clean. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really up to speed with this upstairs-downstairs stuff." She wrinkled her small nose and gave a rueful smile.

"Oh, don't worry dear," the older lady responded, leading the way down the well lit hallway. "You mustn't feel you have to stay in your room. We are not all that grand here..."

That rather depends, Serena thought, responding to this soothing news with a strained smile, on what you are used to.

"That's the way Mrs. Shields likes it. There is only me and Mr. O'Conner, a couple of girls who come in from the village and the gardeners. Mrs. Shields is very fond of her garden. Cook's retired; she has a cottage in the grounds but she always comes in if we have guests. She doesn't like it if we get anyone else."

"The garden is very beautiful." Serena cleared her throat. "I was wondering," she began casually as it would never do for anyone to realize she felt the urgent need of a chaperon. "Will Drusilla, I mean Mrs. Shields, will she be home tonight?"

The housekeeper led the way down the wide shallow staircase. "I don't think so," she called over her shoulder. "Mrs. Shields always gives us plenty of notice if she intends to stay with us."

Serena's knuckles whitened against the graceful curve of the banister. "But I thought...." Serena, aware that the other woman, who was waiting for her to catch up, had begun to look at her with a curious expression; forced herself to relax. "I thought this was her house."

"Well, it is...at least on paper, though of course it was Mr. Shields senior who was brought up here," she explained chattily. She gave a furtive glance of her shoulder as if to confirm there was nobody lurking in the corners with a recording device. "I think that it was for tax reasons that he had it put under Mrs. Shields' name," she hissed with conspiratorial candor.

"So, Mrs. Shields does not live here herself." It seemed incomprehensible to Serena that anyone would keep a big, fully staffed house like this one empty.

"Heavens, no. They live in the Castle."

Of course, the Castle..._Where else_? Serena gave a sick looking smile. I have been lured here under false pretences' she thought indignantly!

She was working in luxurious surroundings; for a man who was the stuff females' fantasies were made of and she was being paid a small fortune for doing so! Her plight was going to elicit her lot of sympathy!

For the first time she started to think Darien's fanciful notions about his mother might not be entirely the result of a fevered imagination.

"They used to spend most of the school holidays here when young Mr. Darien was a boy. Mrs. Shields had a strict rule; no business talk, she used to say. I don't know what she would make of _that_." The housekeeper gave a snort of disapproval and glanced towards the closed oak paneled door; they were passing the library as she spoke.

"Mr. Shields still...?"

The older woman nodded.

Serena clicked her tongue in exasperation. God, but that man had the sense of a sparrow on a suicide mission, she thought angrily!

"They have been in there the whole evening, He asked for sandwiches to be sent in. Cook was most put out, I can tell you." Serena began to feel uneasy that they hadn't progressed past the offending door. "He looks dead on his feet."

"He does?" The way the housekeeper was looking at her made the sinking feeling in her stomach worse.

"I would get short shrift if _I_ tried to tell him!"

"He wouldn't listen to me!" Serena protested weakly.

"You are _medical_ staff." The housekeeper produced what she obviously felt to be her trump card.

Serena gave a sigh and resigned herself to the inevitable. She resented being placed in this position; she didn't come here to be a nursemaid. Her anger was aimed at Darien not the housekeeper. Since when did helicopter pilots held business meetings that went on for hours, anyhow? She wondered, squaring her shoulders and raising her clenched fist to the door. Perhaps it was more of a social occasion in which she was about to try to throw water on...? She wondered. Well, so be it; the man should know better. She knocked and strode confidently into the room. Those years shifting scenery at the amateur dramatics had not been wasted after all.

This was a library in the real sense, not a couple of flat pack bookshelves and a stack of paperbacks. She had never known anyone who owned who owned his very own library before, and even if this wasn't strictly Darien Shields' he looked quite comfortable in the role. He also looked as Mrs. Nichols had indicated, dead on his feet or rather not his feet; fortunately even his stupidity had limits.

His face was turned away from her but even from where she was standing she could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes they contrasted dramatically with his stark pallor. Serena experienced two wildly conflicted desires. One was to batter some sense into his thick skull; the other was to wrap him up in cotton wool and protect him from every little draught.

He was seated in a leather swivel chair with a high button back. There was laptop open on the big mahogany desk and piles of paper were spread over the gleaming surface. Darien and two people, one male and one female, standing on either side of him, appeared to be poring over them. He still hadn't looked up.

"Tell Cook the sandwiches were delicious." Serena watched him slyly shift a sheaf of papers to disguise the fact that the plate was barely touched before he lifted his head. His engaging smile looked a bit frayed around the edges.

When he saw who was standing there, shock and something else, something that made Serena's responsive stomach muscles quiver, widened his deep blue eyes.

"Serenity!" The line bisecting his dark eyebrows deepened suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" He drew a tired hand through his dark hair.

"Saving you from yourself," she told him grimly.

Darien blinked. "Was that in the contract?" He inquired mildly.

A paper drifted from the top of the pile and Serena automatically reached out and caught it. She barely glanced at the typed sheet but the familiar eye catching logo on the letterhead was hard to miss. She had flown Earth Flights on her last trip abroad. This innocuous detail alone wouldn't have made her hand tremble as she replaced it, but the bold signature below the printed title of managing director did!

"Thank you."

Not a pilot, he ran the whole damn thing! Serena stood there feeling incredibly stupid for not catching on earlier; there had been enough clues! Boss of a firm that had flouted all the rules and succeeded; the role fitted this man like a glove.

"You would know all about contracts, I suppose," Serena accused.

If Darien was surprised by her comment or the spark of anger in her eyes, he hid it well.

"It's all in the detail," he agreed equably.

"For a supposedly clever man," she snapped, "you can be remarkably stupid at times." Well, she had been wandering what she would say; now she knew!

The noise of the guests' collective jaws gaping was almost audible. Even Darien, who she knew wasn't easy to shock, looked startled this time.

Please be startled amused not startled mad, she prayed.

Without taking his eyes from her defiant face, he pushed his chair backwards; the castors moved silently over the dense carpet.

"Ann, Melvin, I don't think you have met Serenity."

"Nice to meet you," the young man with the receding hairline and the horn-rimmed specs said respectfully

The woman just looked through her heavily made up eyes, then with a jangle of earrings and a confident smile that dismissed Serena as no competition at all, returned her attention to Darien.

Serena let her lips twitch but stopped just short of a smiling. She didn't dislike all women who were almost six foot and a size 2 on principle; however, she felt that in this occasion she should make an exception.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Shields, but you should be in bed."

Serena watched his eyes narrow and felt sure that all hell was about to break loose. He was going to remind her in front of the interested audience just who was the boss. Just because he didn't yell straight off, she had to go and feel cocky.

It took several seconds of squinting before Darien's vision cleared. He saw that the magnificent and irritating Miss Alcobar was looking apprehensive but unrepentant. He couldn't help but admire her sheer guts.

"Is this desire to get me to bed a personal," he let the thought hang in the air "or a professional request, Serenity?"

She blushed, even though Darien didn't look capable of seducing anyone right now. Her concern deepened as he looked like a man whose adrenaline levels were dropping rapidly. The over stimulated brightness she had seen in his gaze when she had entered the room was fast becoming a glazed vagueness.

"I really must get on top of that over developed mothering instinct of mine."

"Touché!" He turned to his silent acolytes. "I know what you are thinking...bossy, pushy..."

"You forget to add correct."

He shot her an impatient frown. "I didn't forget Serenity. I was rudely interrupted. As I was about to say, unfortunately she's also right. _Satisfied_?"

Satisfaction was not the emotion uppermost in Serena's mind as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I lost track of time," he conceded. "The fact is I have felt more alert in my sleep."

"Right boss, no problem." The bespectacled man responded immediately. He went to help Darien as he pulled himself to his feet and then very obviously thought better. Serena knew he had made the right choice.

The woman waited until he was on his feet before reaching up and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Of course, Darien. You should have said."

Serena could almost hear the redhead wondering what she had missed the first time as she subjected her to a second unfriendly scrutiny.

"Can I help...?"

"Thank you, Ann, but that's what Serena is paid to do. Aren't you, Serenity?"

She heard the slur in his voice and looked sharply into his eyes. She recognized with alarm that he was a lot nearer to total exhaustion than she had imagined. "Paid obscenely well," she agreed, surreptitiously shadowing his slow progress across the room.

"I didn't know you had employed a nurse," the redhead exclaimed.

Darien's deep midnight blue eyes were fixed on Serena's face. "I haven't."

Serena felt sure it wasn't by chance he didn't enlighten them further. Whether it was because he didn't explain himself on principle or he enjoyed embarrassing her, Serena didn't know.

* * *

Five minutes later, which had seemed longer to Serena, Darien reached above his head and pulled a pillow from the pile of the bed head. Wearily, he shoved it under his neck.

His big body was slewed at an awkward angle, half on and half off the bed but Serena, who had thought she would have to call for reinforcements at one point during their transfer, was relieved they'd made it so far. She watched his eyes close, as if the effort of grabbing the pillow had exhausted his last resources.

"I feel drunk, and I haven't touched a drop," he informed her in a puzzled accent.

The dark veiled of his thick lashes cast a dark shadow against his high cheekbones. It would have been an exaggeration to say he looked vulnerable but in repose his face looked a lot softer. Serena, in danger of succumbing to dangerous mushy feelings, pulled her eyes away from his face.

"It's sleep deprivation," she informed him tartly. "You can only cheat your body for so long; even _you_ have to sleep eventually. And actually, I'm not _paid_ to do this," she added in a disgruntled undertone.

"Do what?" Darien asked without opening his eyes.

Serena slid off his remaining shoe and with a bit of huffing, succeeded in swinging his long legs onto the bed on which he was laying.

"I'm not paid to put you to bed."

She pulled the thin cover up over his still clothed form; there was no way that she was removing anything but his shoes. She tucked the blanket under his chin.

"You did it out of the goodness of your heart."

His warm breath brushed her cheek as she straightened up. "I'm missing my supper for this. I must be mad."

"Not mad, sweet." Then he went and spoilt it by adding in a silkily stagy drawl that robbed his words of sincerity. "I'm touched by such a selfless gesture in this avaricious world."

"Would you be serious for a minute?" She pleaded tightly.

Darien's heavy eyelids lifted for a moment, and she could almost feel the enormous effort the gesture cost him. "For you, anything," he said before they sleepily closed.

"It's important you ease yourself gently back into work," she told him worriedly.

"I know, I know..." He yawned and lifted a hand over his head. "I just tend to be a bit overprotective of my baby..."

There was no mistaking the proprietorial note in his rueful voice.

"Your _baby_! You mean you don't just run the airline, you own it?" Serena was startled into exclaiming.

"Well, at the beginning there were two of us, until good old _reliable_ Diamond very nearly gambled our assets out from under us."

"Gambled?" Serena exclaimed. "It's not possible."

"Want to bet?" Darien challenged, grinning at his own wit. "It's a solo show these days," he told her, his deep voice sleepy. Almost before he had finished speaking, the rhythm of his breathing had altered.

She stood there listening to the deep, even rhythm for a few moments. Ironically, they did have something in common after all. They both had been victims of a gambling addiction.

"Shut up and go to sleep," she advised, determined that for once she'd have the last word.

It seemed an invasion of his privacy somehow to stand there gawking but there was something about his face that fascinated her. She jumped guiltily when he murmured sleepily and flung and arm over his head. The cover slid down and she couldn't help but notice how tight his shirt pulled against his neck. How would she feel if he choked to death in the night just because she was too squeamish to loosen his buttons? She fought to subdue her overpowering reluctance to touch him.

With a wildly beating heart, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached to loosen the top button, which due to her shaking hands wasn't as easy as it should have been, and then the next. His skin was warm...Serena expelled her breath in an angry gusty sigh. Well, what did she expect? Idiot. She asked herself sarcastically, he wasn't made of marble after all! No, he was flesh and blood with other intriguing components that the open shirt revealed a glimpse of. Intriguing firm muscles under smooth skin that moved with the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"That should do it," she announced to nobody in particular. However, she still didn't move. What would be the harm if she were to do it...? She had only to lean a little more and she would be able to taste him... Beads of moisture broke out in her forehead. It was only when she started shaking all over that the full shame of what she had been contemplating hit her. Chocking in a cry of shamed horror and terrible disappointment, she backed out of the room on trembling limbs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife** and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings:**This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary**: Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

If she had expected Darien to sleep around the clock she would have been disappointed...or maybe not. It was the maybe not part that bother her! Anyone would think that she was anxious to _see_ him.

The message relayed by Mrs. Nichols during breakfast was that he'd like to see her in the pool in forty-five minutes. That had happened forty-eight minutes ago, according to her watch.

Despite the fact she was beginning to feel a little too warm in her baggy T-shirt that she wore over her swim suit, Serena felt strangely reluctant to strip off. Instead, she sat at the side of the pool and trailed her toes in the water.

She was indulging in a little childish splashing when Darien emerged from the door that connected the pool with his room. She'd already kind of admitted to herself that Darien Shields gave off sexual vibes of an earthy raw variety to which she wasn't _totally_ invulnerable – after last night, did she have a choice? – so she expected to feel something...only not this much _something_!

Despite the humid constant temperature in the pool house, a rash of goose bumps spontaneously broke out over her skin as he appeared. Every step he took nearer seemed to trigger a new body system to go haywire...The complete disintegration of her nervous system didn't take long at all.

Anyone would think you'd never seen a man in a pair of swimming trunks before...! Pull yourself together Serena! Under the cover of retying her ponytail she gave herself a sharp lecture on evils of behaving with all the discrimination of a groupie! She gave her blond hair an extra vicious tweak just before discovering, much to her horror, that good intentions and determination didn't come into the equation. She was suffering from a _visceral_ response over which she apparently had no control...The only alternative left open to her seemed to be to treat it like a bad case of the flu and wait for her immune system to develop a few defenses. For the sake of her sanity and self-respect, sooner would be better than latter!

He had discarded the crutches in favor of a single cane. Small wonder his mother wanted someone around to keep an eye on him. If left to himself, the man would probably run a marathon within the month!

She continued to watch his slow but determined progress with a hammering heart and an expression she hoped and prayed was impeccably objective. Ironically, considering his halting progress, his was a body built for speed, long lean and sleekly muscular with no suggestion of bulk about the well defined slabs of tight muscle. It would take more than a leg held together by a selection of nuts and bolts to alter the fact that this man had a raw earthy magnetism right off the scale!

Her stomach a riot of butterflies, she got to her feet just before he reached the shallow flight of steps that led into the pool. A thick uncomfortable silence fell as their eyes eventually collided. Her own showed a worrying tendency to cling to his strong lean face.

"Seen enough...?"

For a moment she went rigid with shock; then it slowly dawned on her that it hadn't been an accusation. She could have wept with relief. How convenient that she had a legitimate reason to look at his body. It was part of her role. _A though job but somebody had to do it!_

"You have kept you muscle tone very well," she told him in a cool tone that suggested her scrutiny had been completely clinical. "Considering," she finished weakly.

"Considering I'm as weak as a kitten." He glanced down with impatience at a body which had once responded obediently to every demand, no matter how harsh, he made it.

"_Considering_ the long bed-rest, traction and sundry restrictions you've endured," she corrected him firmly. "Actually, I'm impressed," she admitted lightly. Just how impressed was something she was going to keep to herself. "I was expecting it to be much worse."

He laid the ebony-topped cane down. For a second she thought he was going to ignore the arm she automatically held out for his support. The wry smile that twitched the corners of his mouth didn't touch the bleak aspect of his dark blue eyes as his arm came down to rest lightly on her forearm. The cold dryness of his flesh contrasted with the sticky heat of her own. A sliver of sexual awareness sliced through her; the neat concoction combined with his proximity spooked her so badly it was hard not to follow her gut instinct and turn tail. This was sexual attraction on a scale she had not encountered before.

"You make it sound as though I ought to be grateful."

Ignoring the solid lump of panic lodged behind her breastbone, Serena smiled. "I'm already over my permitted number of platitudes for one day." she retorted dryly.

"You've got a limit?" His eyes widened with mock shock. "That makes you a very unusual angel of mercy."

"I bet you gave the nursing staff hell." She accused huskily. And I bet they came running for more!

The devilish look in his eyes intensified. "A man's got to do something to amuse himself when he's stuck in bed all day," he confessed, displaying no signs of remorse for his alleged behavior.

It made Serena's blood run cold – which in sober reflection, was probably better than a constant simmer – to imagine him amusing himself at her expanse. A woman, who swore to hate him, being turn into a mass of seething hormones by his bad blue eyes? With his twisted sense of humor, he'd never be able to resist a joke like that!

"You look a lot better than you did last night." In retrospect, she wondered if tit had been such a good idea – in the interest of peace and harmony – to have brought up the subject of the previous night. She wasn't sure he was the sort of man who'd like anyone to see him with his defenses down.

"Ah, last night; I wondered how long you could resist saying, 'I told you so'."

"I was just making an observation. I'm sure you already realize how stupid you were being yesterday without me rubbing it in." Serena already regretted letting her sharp tongue run away from her. However, much to her surprise Darien didn't seem to mind; there was an amused, almost appreciative gleam in his eyes.

"I'm only just realizing what a soul of restraint you are, Serenity."

Their eyes clashed and suddenly the humor fizzled away, leaving an almost electrical charge in its place. Serena was the first to look away.

"Hold on a minute," she requested curtly, pulling one arm elbow first out the over sized T-shirt. "Grab on there," she suggested, indicating her free shoulder with her chin. "While I get this off." A quick wriggle and it was over her head.

Darien expelled hid breath in a long luxurious sigh. It hardly mattered that this was not a skin fest; he hadn't been this close to a scantly clad female for sometime. The racing backed swimsuit she wore was black, the unadorned high-neck type that competitive female swimmers wore to flatten their natural buoyancy aids in the hope it would shave a few micros of a second of their times.

Even accounting for the design factor and reinforced Lycra, there was no disguising the fact Serena had a knock-out figure; from whichever angle you looked at her there was no mistaking she was _all_ female! There would be absolutely no chance of a man gracing himself on her hipbones--a bloke got tired sometimes of females trying to starve their curves into submission.

The sound of her clearing her throat noisily brought his eyes reluctantly from softly rounded thigh level to her pink checked, predictably indignant face. The clear blue eyes were spitting sparks and her cute nose was twitching with temper.

"Shall I give you a twirl, or have you _seen_ enough?"

He saw no harm in playing out the moral degenerate card – her opinion of him couldn't get much lower – not if the expression in her eyes was any indicator.

"Have you ever considered a bikini? The skimpy sort?" he mused, elaborating with some pleasure on the theme, "Triangles tied together..."

She snorted and did that flouncy cross thing with her head and her ponytail smacked her in the eye...One eye watering, she blinked rapidly and took an angry step away from him. Being an observant man, he noticed the bounciness extended to other areas.

This awakening sexual interest was probably a sign that he was getting back to normal. As Serenity had a habit of saying...it was nothing personal. Nice try, mate, but just who are you kidding? Not himself, that was for sure--not with a piece of self deception that flagrant!

"I was just being a dutiful friend. Zoi will expect a full report...I take it you did notice my _heterosexual_friend, Zoi was deeply smitten?"

"Don't be daft..."

Actually, Zoi fell in and out of love at regular intervals, so Darien wasn't reading too much into it. The thought that maybe Zoi wasn't the only one a little smitten occurred, only to be speedily dismissed. If a bit of mild flirtation would make his convalescence any less tedious, where wad the harm? The girl had made herself a legitimate target the moment she'd only herself to blame if he made her eat her words.

Would she recognize Zoi if she met him in the street? Serena was ashamed to acknowledge she couldn't be sure. It was all Darien's fault; he was the sort of man that tended to be the cynosure of attention without even trying. The Zoi's of this world, worthy and _nice_ to one man, faded into insignificance. There was no justice. God, I'm so shallow!

"And don't blame poor Zoi for your lecherous tendencies!" she advised contemptuously. Riding high on a wave of moral superiority, she blithely ignored the jarring note of hypocrisy in her comment.

After all, she reasoned, the circumstances were totally different. Darien had not been around scantly clad females for sometime, so you couldn't really take his interest personally, whereas she didn't stare hungrily at just _any_ man! A distracted dreamy expression flitted across her disapproving features...He _had_ looked hungry...Recalling that hard _male_ expression made her stomach muscles spasm painfully.

"_Poor _Zoi?" He clicked his tongue. "That doesn't sound promising."

His laughter, low and effortlessly sexy, was a wake up call for a dreamy Serena. When he'd looked at her like _that_ he'd just been responding in the preconditioned male response to weigh up any female that came within ogling distance. It was no more complicated than the blinking reflex. Men were pretty primitive creatures when it came right down to it!

Be realistic! Why would _he_, her eyes swept resentfully up the length on his long, lean, spectacular body, look at _me_?

Serena had no illusions about her figure. The hour-glass shape might have excited admiration during an era less fixated by androgynous slenderness, but by today's standards she knew she would be considered positively gross by the purist. She'd decided a long time ago she wasn't about to punish and starve her body to sculpt it to fit in with some media-hyped ideal.

"I'm sure that Zoi would appreciate your efforts in his behalf, but shall we get back to what we are actually here for?" Darien conceded her point with a shrug. "Actually, I don't think you could have been so bad a patient as you make out. It wasn't luck that kept your muscle tone; you must have been pretty diligent about your exercises."

"I live to work my quadriceps," he agreed dryly. "That's why I opted for pool work this morning. Hydrotherapy has a slightly lower tedium quotient. You do not have a problem with that, do you?"

"Not at all; it is a good idea. Although I am not used to working on anything this...big." She finished lamely. It was pointless trying to explain to anyone who found it normal to have an Olympic-sized swimming pool that she found the opulence of her surroundings slightly intimidating.

"You probably find it hard to believe but I used to be in pretty good shape."

_Used to be_? Was he serious? As far as Serena could tell, he still was--and then some! Broad, powerful shoulders, washboard flat belly and snaky slim hips attached to long, _long_ legs. His skin tone slightly tanned, but it seemed to pale in contrast to the soft dark body hair sprinkled across his broad chest. Her eyes dropped compulsively to the thin arrow of dark hair that disappeared under the waistband of his swimming trunks and her wayward stomach did a treble flip.

"I know you are in a hurry, but it's all about realistic goals." Now that is something you should remember Serena, she told herself firmly. Men like Darien Shields were not 'realistic goals' for girls like her. He was the type to give a girl a good time – probably a _very_ good time – and disappeared into the sunset.

"Your idea of realistic or mine?"

Serena could sympathize with his barely restrained restless impatience.

"I'd suggest a compromise if I thought you understood the meaning of the word," she came back acerbically.

He grinned down at her through wolfish gritted teeth. "You've got entirely the wrong idea, Baby face. Concession is my middle name..."

"Baby face...?" She grimaced. "_Please_."

"It just sort of slipped out."

"I fell deeply insulted that you look at me and automatically you think 'baby face'. Unless, that is, you call all females _Baby face_?"

He wondered what she'd do if he told her what he did think when he looked at her. For one brief, insane moment he even toyed with the idea of finding out, and then common sense prevailed.

"Not by far." Head on one side, he appeared to give the notion some thought. "But I don't think many of them would have minded...outside the work environment, naturally. I'm strictly professional at work."

"I don't think all that much of the women you know," she sniffed scornfully, thinking of the slinky redhead.

"You and Drusilla in perfect harmony once more."

"I hardly know your mother." And taking everything this virtual stranger had told her – or more specifically _not_ told her – as the gospel truth had got her where she was now.

He zeroed in on what seemed like a whopping great inconsistency. "What happened to the old family friend thing?"

Serena gave an exasperated sigh. He had to be the most suspicious person she'd ever come across, but then she supposed he had his reasons for being suspicious. The more she though about it, the more likely it seemed to Serena that, for reasons which remained a mystery, Drusilla had been trying to set her up with her millionaire son.

"Like I told you, she went to school with my mom but they lost contact over the years. They met up again relatively recently." Drusilla had been opening a new pain control clinic at the local hospital and Serena's mother had been one of the first patients.

"When are you expecting your mother?" When Drusilla did turn up Serena was going to do some straight talking; she was due an explanation! Why, anything could have happened, she brooded resentfully...She could have fallen in love with the man!

"What makes you think I'm expecting her? Did she say she'd be her?"

Serena was quite relieved when his sharp interrogative tone wrenched her away from her uncomfortable introspection.

"Not _exactly_," she admitted. Eyes narrowed slightly, she reviewed their last conversation. "But she did give the impression..."

"Yes, she is quite good at doing that."

"I noticed." Serena couldn't help sounding bitter.

"_Interesting_!" One dark brow lifted as he contemplated the angry pink spots on her smooth cheeks. "Just how much do you know about the family situation?"

"Family situation?" She echoed airily, giving a passable imitation of not knowing what he was talking about...and furthermore not being interested. "Unless it's relevant to your treatment there's absolutely no need for me to – "

"Like you are not the least a little curious...!"

His laconic drawl really got under her skin. "Well, of course I am! Who wouldn't be when you've just implied there's some juicy secret?"

"Fair point."

Serena blinked. She was beginning to recognize a sort of pattern. Every time she was spoiling for a fight, he threw her off balance completely by turning all reasonable.

"You know who my father is?"

She could tell by the way he said it that he took her affirmation as a given.

"Should I?"

Darien looked shocked, and then frankly skeptical of her reply.

"_You're joking_?"

It wasn't until the last few years that people had stopped referring to him as Connor Shields' son – God, at one point Darien had even considered having his name changed by deed pool! He'd worked hard to establish himself as his own person, not a shadowy version of the old man; for so long that it was vaguely disorienting to discover someone who didn't know who the great man was!

"No, I'm not joking; neither am I being evasive. Unlike some people I could mention," she reflected with dryness. "Actually, I didn't even know you had a father."

"You weren't very well briefed, were you?"

"You don't know the half of it," Serena responded with feeling. "Your mother told me you were a helicopter pilot."

"I am."

"That's the clever part," Serena told him darkly, unable to take her eyes off the sculpted muscles of his midriff.

"_My God!_" Darien breathed in a shaken tone. "You mean it! You really didn't know..."

Serena wrenched her eyes back to eye level. The change of scenery offered very little relief for her lust transfixed thoughts.

"Oh, it gets better," she told him bitterly. "I even thought she was paying my salary because you couldn't afford to. How funny is that? I thought she lived her. And now I find out that you are stinking rich!"

"Is that a problem – the rich part, not the stupid part?"

Serena dealt him a withering look. "I don't care about your money!"

Darien found that against all odds, he believed her.

"I care about being lied to."

He heard the emotional quiver in her voice and the amusement died from his eyes. He knew all about being lied to. He still continued to look at her with an expression of unholy fascination.

"Perhaps we should teach my meddling mother a lesson."

His silky, soothing tone sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

"When she does turn up to see how her machinations are going, we could let her think her plan worked."

"How could we do that?"

"We could pretend to be madly in love..."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own **Sailor Moon** or **The Prospective Wife** and make no money from writing this story.

**Warnings:**This is an adaptation the published work mentioned above. I mean no harm or profit but to use the story as a setting for my favorite anime couple. You have been warned.

**Summary:**Hired for marriage? Darien Shields is the ultimate millionaire playboy, and irresistibly charming. The members of his family are constantly trying to find him a suitable wife. Then Darien has an accident, and his suspicions are aroused when blond, beautiful Serena is hired to help him recover. However, Darien is surprised at Serena's cool professionalism as a physiotherapist; maybe she _is_ there to massage, not marry him. So why does he find her touch so arousing; has he at last found his potential wife?

* * *

**The Potential Wife**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Pretend to be in love? Kissing and touching, wouldn't be almost obligatory under such circumstances? On one level, she found the idea exciting in a wild reckless sort of way. Another part of her instinctively knew she couldn't settle for make believe.

Serena drew a deep sustaining breath as it hit her with the force of a tidal wave. _She wouldn't be pretending_.

"It would probably cure her of matchmaking for good."

"Rough justice, how poetic. You are just a warped and manipulative as she is!" She accused shakily. She felt as if the truth were written all over her face.

Darien shrugged. "It was just a thought."

"Do me a favor. Don't think." She took a deep breath and changed the subject. "You were giving me the lowdown on your father. If I'd thought about him at all, I suppose I had assumed he was dead." For some reason this last comment seemed to amuse Darien the most.

"No, he is very much alive," he told her gravely. "With emphasis in the _very_. He is very fond of mentioning he's got more energy than a man half his age."

"Would that younger man be you?"

"Give the lady a prize."

"You don't get on with him...?"

"Go straight to the top of the class. My father and I haven't communicated for several years; he's disinherited me."

"And I take it there is a lot to disinherit you from...?" She prompted. A person just couldn't start a story and leave it like that!

"You have heard of Golden Airlines?"

Serena nodded. "Of course."

"That's my father."

Her eyes widened. "_Gosh_!" She looked around her surroundings, realizing now why he took such opulence for granted. "Then you set up in..."

"Competition." He inclined his dark head. "That's right. He wanted me to be the dutiful son and learn at the master's feet."

"I can see how that might cause a bit of friction. But surely after the accident...?" She exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sort of paternal animosity that could survive this life threatening crisis. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry." She added uncomfortably.

Darien's muscle packed shoulders lifted, and Serena, to whom the mechanics of muscle and sinew were no mystery, found herself distracted by this simple action...This is getting silly, she told herself angrily.

"It's no secret," he told her. "It's the old nurturing a snake in his bosom story. He's considered me a traitor from the day I became the opposition. So, you see, you got caught up in a long running family feud. Mom never gives up on the idea of a big reconciliation. She's got this master plan, you see, to get Dad and I back together."

"That's got nothing to do with me..."

Darien shocks his head slowly. Now that they were both officially victims of Drusilla, he seemed inclined to view her in an almost sympathetic manner.

"Me producing a son is meant to reduce the old man to a sentimental push-over..."

Privately, going in the information she had, Serena thought such an event was highly unlikely, given the two men involved both seemed extraordinarily obstinate and inflexible.

One dark brow lifted. "That's where you come in..."

"Me...?" She echoed innocently.

"I can't produce a son alone..."

"Does it have to be a boy?"

"No," he conceded, "Just a Shields. Well, half Shields...the other half..."

Serena's eyes widened to saucer size. "She picked me for my child bearing hips?"

"Don't panic. I think she's backing a loser, too."

Serena couldn't decide if this was a direct indictment of her hips or her overall appeal, or lack of it. Either way, it was hard to stand there and act as if you didn't care when the man you were crazy about casually dismissed you as a possible mate.

"Poor Drusilla!" Putting aside her unhappy personal involvement, she couldn't help but feel for the other woman. It was the ultimate divided loyalties scenario: caught between husband and son. Serena couldn't imagine a situation she'd like less. "It must be hard for her. Does your father know you are staying here?"

"Probably," Darien conceded carelessly.

Serena noticed he had the same closed expression on his face every time he mentioned his father.

"They've come to some sort of compromise, they don't discuss me but I'm sure he knows what she's up to."

"I thought my family was odd..." A cloud passed over her face as it hit her anew that she no longer had a family, odd or otherwise.

Her tactlessness amused him; the shadow in her eyes intrigued him. "Perhaps we could exchange odd anecdotes some time...?"

Serena didn't respond to his smile. "Perhaps," she said, confident that she'd never feel inclined to confide her family secrets to this man. She moved down the wide shallow steps until her ankles were covered by the water. When she lifted her head she found her eyes were on level with the scars on his left leg.

A naturally emphatic person, Serena had been forced over the years to build up the necessary defenses against other people's sufferings. She'd learnt that she couldn't identify personally with someones pain without affecting her work. But one glance at the surgeon's clever handiwork here and those rudimentary defenses were stripped clean away. She stood there, feeling emotions so raw it hurt.

"Want a guided tour of the scar sites?"

Only a total deviant could have found the invitation erotic. Serena lowered her troubled gaze, feeling deeply ashamed.

He touched the one above his knee. "This is from the external fixation. When that got infected, they eventually opted for the internal metalwork." He traced a vertical line. "Quite a mess."

Serena had this crazy explosive image on her head of tracing the fading line with her fingers...her lips. Her entire body was shaken by a hot shiver. "I've seen worse," she croaked. "Here, let me help you into the water." Pity it's not cold, she certainly could do with it!

"Give it to me from the female angle."

"_Female angle_?"

"You know what I mean. What is your gut reaction?" he elaborated casually. "Pity, distaste, revulsion...? Don't pull your punches. I'd like to know what to expect."

Serena shook her head in disbelief. "You know, the vanity of men never ceases to amaze me," she marveled angrily. "You think women are _that_ shallow?"

"Now that you come to mention it..." Ignoring her extended had, he maneuvered himself down the first couple steps pretty slickly. From what she could see, Serena didn't think he'd need her services for too long.

Serena wished she'd concentrated harder when Drusilla had been explaining about some girlfriend – or had it been fiancée? – who had dumped Darien because she had panicked at the idea of disfigurement. Silly fool, Serena thought, intensely scornful of this fickle airhead...If you loved someone, what did a few scars matter?

"Just because you've had a bad experience..." She immediately sensed the wary aggression in his tense stance. "Drusilla mentioned a girl..." she admitted with a brief conciliatory grin. Her bosom swelled with indignation. "She didn't sound very..._nice_," she sniffed.

"Not nice, but very naughty." Darien told her with a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. He hadn't expected nor wanted Beryl to hang around when the going got tough; they hadn't had that sort of relationship.

Serena, her stomach churning queasily, didn't want to think about what sort of behavior _naughty_ covered. Neither was she totally convinced by the fact that he was displaying none of the classical symptoms of rejection. Pride would never permit him to admit that he'd been hurt...Maybe he was trying to play down the incident deliberately? Perhaps he was genuinely seeking reassurance...? Part of her ached to provide that reassurance; part of her ached to give him whatever he wanted!

Looking at his hard, almost painfully handsome face, Serena found it hard to believe the latter could be true. He had to be the most confident person she'd ever come across. Appearances could be deceptive, she remained herself. Maybe the ego thing was a cover up.

Just when she felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and her concern for his emotional welfare had risen accordingly he went and spoilt it with a scornful, "If I wanted _nice_ I'd buy a dog."

"Niceness and fidelity don't seem to feature very high on your list of virtues," she observed tartly as she backed down the steps. It was fortunate monitoring his progress was a part of her job because Serena didn't think she could have torn her eyes from him if her life depended on it!

"I take it they do in yours?" He gave a sigh of pleasure ad the warm water closed about his waist.

"Well, I haven't lost hope of finding someone who can see beyond a D-cup, someone who loves me for more than my body."

A very worrying expression had slid into his eyes when she'd mentioned D-cup. It occurred to her she was in danger of exacerbating an already tense situation!

"Let's try this first, shall we...?" She began to demonstrate a few gentle exercises which Darien immediately copied. After a few moments, she was satisfied he was more than up to the task.

"And would you love him, this _paragon_," Darien continued their conversation as if nothing had been said in the interim, and the contemptuous curl of his lip spoilt the gentle rhythm Serena had built up "for more than his body?" Loving her body wouldn't be too onerous a task for most men.

She could hardly beg him to avoid the L subject without inviting unwelcome speculation. What was she meant to say...? _I've fallen madly, deeply, dangerously in love with you, so please don't bring up the subject_? "Did you see me falling about in revulsion at your scars?"

"That's not the same. You don't fancy me..." Was it her guilty conscience that imbued his tone with skepticism? "You don't even like, or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten!" she retorted, her bosom heaving as though she'd just sprinted several lengths of the pool. "And I'm not likely to while you continue to go out of your way to be objectionable. Shall we take a break?"

"So soon?" The ends of his hair were wet; when he shook his head the excess moisture transferred itself to his mocking face. "I don't think your fitness levels are what they should be."

This not so veiled reference to her breathless discomposed state brought an angry resentful frown to Serena's brow. "I don't want you to over-exert yourself."

"How can you be so sure?" He seemed to be in the mood to discompose her some more as he leaned back against a mosaic dolphin on the tiled side of the pool. "That you won't fall in love with a pretty face? Don't be so quick to pour scorn!" he warned, as an indignant denial trembled angrily on her tongue. "You may be looking for a guy's inner strength but it's quite likely you'll see his tight behind first."

Under the mockery of his too blue eyes, heat flooded Serena's face. "I don't look at men's bottoms, tight or otherwise." She tried to compress her full and sexy lips into a prim and prissy line and failed in a way that delighted Darien.

"Except professionally, of course..." he added with mock solemnity.

Was this his way of telling her that he'd seen straight through her _professional_ gawping earlier? If it is, I don't want to know, she decided, gritting her teeth and rising above the malicious taunt.

"All right, let's say for the sake of argument that you're not a bottom girl. What happens if you meet a rat who just happens to fulfill all your girlhood dreams...?"

_What indeed?_

"You'd know about that, I suppose?" If ever a man was the embodiment of female dreams, he was it!

"Why, Miss Alcobar, I do believe you're telling me I'm pretty! I don't know what to say..." He performed a parody of coy and modest that would have had her laughing if she hadn't been so tense and suspicious.

"We can only live in hope." This drew a deep wildly attractive rumble of laughter from him. "And actually I was thinking of the rat part."

"The point I'm trying to make,"

"In a long winded way."

"Is that when it comes to the crunch your loftily principles might prove lacking."

"If they do, you'll be the first to know," she snapped sarcastically. "Are you ready to do a few more exercises before we call it a day?"

"No, I'm ready for a swim."

"I don't think you are ready."

He listened with an expression of deep interest, then gave her a wicked little grin and launched himself smoothly towards the deep end of the pool.

Serena had little choice but to follow him, even though she wasn't the best swimmer in the world and, given the choice, she normally didn't venture out of her depth. He had covered a good half of the pool in a lazy but efficient crawl before she caught up with him. He was leaning on his back, squinting up through half-closed eyes at the elaborate murals of toga-clad women in the high ceiling.

"Hell that felt good!"

Serena began to inexpertly tread water. "That was a stupid thing to do!"

"You breathing could do with some work," he observed regarding her red-cheeked breathlessness critically.

This one piece of provocation too many for Serena, who had been scared stiff that he'd get into trouble in deep water and she'd be unable to help him. "I didn't come here to be your lifeguard, or for that matter your nursemaid!" she yelled. "If you are going to ignore everything I say; I don't see much point in staying!" At that moment she swallowed a large mouthful of water. Coughing and choking, her uncoordinated thrashing movements sent her under water. Panic kept her there longer than was necessary and a strong arm brought her back up.

When her head re-emerged above the water, Darien's arms were linked gently under her arms.

"You're fine," the voice beside her ear soothed persuasively, so persuasively, in fact, that if she hadn't felt as if she'd swallowed half the pool water she might have believed him. "Just relax."

Easier said than done! Serena fought back the instinct that made her want to claw wildly at him.

"Good girl," he approved as she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. "Let me do all the work."

Every professional instinct told Serena she should do nothing of the sort, but her fright had taken the fight clear out of her. "You'll..."

"_Break_? I don't think so. Besides, the water is doing all the work; you're as light as a feather."

"That's a novelty."

Her passive acceptance of his aid lasted until she felt the bottom of the pool under her toes. The arm looped across her ribcage fell away as she struggled to regain her feet.

"You can't swim!"

The virulence of his biting accusation took her by surprise. "Of course I can. I just can't swim as well as you." She pushed back her drenched hair from her face with unsteady hands.

An image of his streamlined body moving through the water appeared in her head. He was as supple and confident as a seal in the water. Even in her panic-stricken state, part of her had registered his grace and casual elegance. She instinctively knew that under normal circumstances he would be just as rivetingly, breathtakingly elegant on dry land.

"You call that swimming?" His eyebrows drew into a scornful dark line.

Serena glared mutinously back. Hadn't she been humiliated enough without him rubbing salt in the wound? Still he didn't let it go! It was _her_ near-death experience, for heaven's sake!

"Why the hell swim out of your depth when you knew you couldn't handle it?"

Serena still felt out of her depth; she felt that way every time she looked at him. "Well, someone had to be there to save you if you overreached yourself!" she yelled back, stomping abruptly towards the steps and sitting down in the shallow water with a thump. Her knees were feeling the after effects of her little adventure and her head was spinning. With a sigh she let her head fall weakly to her lap.

"She was going to save me...?" Darien repeated under his breath as he made his way towards her. Out of the water it was a slow, arduous process. "_She_ was going to save me...!" he repeated. A slow grin spread across his face as he shook his head wonderingly from side to side. "Are you all right?"

Serena lifted her head. Her face was pale but otherwise she didn't look too bad...Actually, she looked deeply desirable. His body responded lustfully. If asked at that moment he would have fiercely denied that he'd ever thought her insipidly pretty.

"I'm fine." Thankfully the nausea had receded.

"Are all our sessions going to be this dramatic?"

Serena shook her head. "There aren't going to be any more. I really don't think this is going to work out." She was just amazed that he couldn't see this too. "You must see that...?"

"Why must I?'

Serena's jaw tightened. "We don't get on."

"Do you only treat patients you like?"

Now she knew he was being deliberately obtuse. "This isn't dislike. This is a total clash of personalities! I'm not--"

"Throwing in the towel?" he suggested smoothly.

"I'm no quitter!" she insisted defiantly. "I just can't work in this atmosphere."

"Ah, the _atmosphere_..."

Serena didn't like the way he said that one bit at all. She shot him a worried furtive glance from under the sweep of her wet eyelashes. "Be careful!" she said sharply as, with his leg extended stiffly, he lowered himself smoothly down besides her.

Serena didn't know if the hair-roughened flesh of his thigh had come to rest against her own deliberately, but she did know that it was the last straw! The hot liquid sensation that pooled low in her belly was even more debilitating than strange, light-headed, airborne feeling and the weakness that afflicted all her limbs simultaneously.

Darien watched as a fine tremor ran through her entire body. "Are you cold?"

Cold, hot...? Both...neither. Serena didn't have the faintest idea, and cared even less.

"Perhaps we should leave and go inside...?"

"I've told you. I'm leaving." As soon as she could trust herself to stand.

Darien allowed his exasperation to show. "You need a job; I need a physio..." If he'd said what else he needed...needed _badly_, as it happened...he'd really spook her, and probably earn him a lot of bad publicity into the bargain!

It occurred to him that it was a bit late in the day to remember office protocol...There were excuses...This wasn't an office...This was a hot steamy place where a guy didn't wear many clothes to hide his interest! Actually, it was a bit of a relief; after the paraplegic scare he'd been assured there would be no problems on that score. Only when the feeling had returned to his toes and his legs there had been no corresponding awakening in vital areas, not until now!

"How about if I promise to be a good boy and do everything you tell me...?"

A distressed moan escaped from Serena's throat as her fevered imagination came up with several things she'd like to tell him to do; the _things_ could only be termed exercises in the loosest possible sense! Why sis he have to be so vibrantly male? She wondered despairingly.

Her teeth came together so hard it hurt. "_I can't_!" she told him in a strangled voice.

"Of course you can."

Serena lifted her head from her contemplation of her white knuckled fingers with a snap; her eyes were blazing. "I can't stay here," she grated in a goaded voice. "It might be different if I was a typist or something." Typing didn't require a person to lay her hands on her boss' bare skin. There was nothing even vaguely clinical about the almost overwhelming urge she had to place her hands against his solid chest.

"I don't see the distinction."

Serena's nostrils flared and her cheeks grew hot with shame. "I can't...can't look at you the way I should look at a patient."

There was a frustratingly blank look of incomprehension in Darien's eyes.

"It's not..._proper_!"


End file.
